Tabula Rasa Part 1
by The Blue Raven
Summary: Far from home, Cole suffers amnesia while in pursuit of a Vardian childkiller. As Mel does her best to find Cole, he struggles to find himself, with nothing more than a handful of memories of Mel to guide him. spoilers through 'Love, Cirronian Style'
1. Home is With Mel

**Tabula Rosa Part 1**

Summary: Thousands of miles from home, Cole suffers amnesia while in pursuit of a Vardian child-killer. As Mel does her best to find Cole, he struggles to find himself, with nothing more than a handful of memories of Mel to guide him.

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but, hey, just as soon as that deal with Zin goes through...

Timeline: Takes place pretty shortly after the ep "Love, Cirronian Style".

Note: This story is going to take place in two parts. This part (Part 1) concerns Cole and Mel finding each other again. Part 2 will revolve around Cole's attempts to recover his memory… 

Note # 2: I just want to establish that I've been developing this plot-line for months now, since well before any info became available which may make this seem derivative. If that makes no sense to you, it probably will later. The point is that I am _not_ stealing ideas… :)****

**Chapter 1 -- Home is with Mel**

Amelia Munro enjoyed solitude and privacy enough to have left New York City for the Alaskan wilderness without any regrets for the things and people that she had left there. For that reason, she was more than a little annoyed to hear not one but _two_ voices very close by. Campers, most likely, lost tourists. She got a few of those every season. But if they were hunters... on _her_ land, and out of season... there would be serious hell to pay. Unslinging her shotgun from her shoulder, she cautiously approached the clearing and crouched behind a downed tree, watching curiously. 

Two men faced each other, one large and wrapped in several heavy layers in spite of the fact that the weather was comparatively mild. Obviously not a local. The other was less heavily dressed and reeked of menace.

"You just don't give up, do you, Tracker?" he sneered at the larger man.

"After you killed those girls? You expected me to _ignore_ that?" He shook his head, looking incredulous. "You thought I would rest before I recaptured you? You're worse than Zin, Ansen! _Children_!"

"If you knew what Zin had planned for these monkeys, you wouldn't say that." 

The men circled each other warily. Amelia could tell that there was about to be a fight, so she slid down farther behind her cover. At least no weapons were apparent. 

The large man shook his head. "You kill children for _fun_!" he spat in disgust. "You deserve worse than what you're going to get from me."

The other man sneered. "Killing them wasn't all I did..." he taunted, reaching into his pocket. "They _begged _for death by the time I was through with them, Tracker. You... your death will be easy compared to theirs."

As Amelia watched, a strange, metallic object seemed to _appear_ in the large man's hand. He approached the other man. "This is going to be very painful..." he said softly, grabbing the man's shoulder.

From her hiding-place, Amelia saw everything that happened next so clearly that it was hard to convince herself that she was not seeing what she thought she was. The smaller man pulled a small metal rod out of his pocket and shot the other with what looked like a beam of green light. The large man hit the ground with a pained cry, clutching his stomach where the shot had hit him. The smaller man backed away and shot him with the device again, this time hitting him in the head, causing him to clutch his head and howl in agony. The man with the 'ray-gun' laughed.

Amelia had seen and heard enough. The short, beady-eyed one was a killer. A _child_-killer. And he was hurting the other man. She jumped into the clearing and hit him over the head with the butt of her shotgun. He slumped to the ground. The first man looked up, obviously confused by her sudden appearance. He regarded her uncertainly for a moment, searching her eyes with his own desperate ones. Slowly, as though deciding that she was no threat, he pulled himself onto his knees and crawled towards the unconscious man. As Amelia watched, he used the device in his hands to do something that she could not entirely describe or understand. A beam of black and red light left the unconscious man's chest and flowed into the device in the other man's hand. He pulled the small metal rod from his hand, clutching it in his own. This achieved, he looked at Amelia in obvious confusion and distress.

Amelia took a cautious step away from this man, in case he had similar plans for her, but clearly he was too weak and in too much pain to do anything else. He knelt on the ground, holding himself up with his hands and started to crawl away. He made it less than five feet before his hands and legs gave out altogether. Amelia sighed and bent to check his pulse. His pulse was fine, but his skin felt feverish. She checked the other man, but he was dead and already cold to the touch, which made absolutely no sense.

"What the hell..." Amelia muttered, shaking her head. "Amelia, there is no way you just saw what you think you just saw. Whatever it was, you imagined it..." She looked between the body and the unconscious man in confusion, shaking her head to clear it. "Well, whether you imagined it or not, you aren't imagining the dead body on your property, and you aren't imagining that this guy needs help..." She bent over the large man again, rolling him onto his back.

"Mel..." he groaned, his eyelids fluttering.

Amelia considered this a promising sign, but the man did not speak again. Although still conscious, he seemed wholly unaware of his surroundings. She very badly wanted to just walk away from this whole bizarre occurrence, but she recalled the pained, confused look the man had given her. He was hurt and he needed help. She could not deny _those_ facts, whatever else she might chose to believe or disbelieve.

"Can you walk?" she asked gently.

He regarded her uncertainly and struggled to his feet, pitching forward. Amelia caught him and supported him. They took a few steps forward, the man leaning heavily on Amelia. He was huge, _very _heavy, and completely lacking coordination. It was going to be a long walk home.

Every couple of steps, his knees would buckle or he would pitch forward. Only Amelia's quick reflexes kept him from hurting them both very badly more than once as he fell or stumbled. It was hard to associate this weak, shambling creature with the man who had been shot. He had seemed so graceful before. He must have been very badly hurt, even though she could see no sign of blood or injury.

As they limped the mile and a half to her cabin, Amelia made a conscious decision to forget about the dead body. The man had been a killer by his own admission, a filthy, disgusting child-killer. He deserved far worse than the quick death that he had received from the other. Amelia herself would have given him far worse without compunction.

Rationally, she knew that having a corpse on her property, even more than a mile from her home, was an untenable situation. It would have to be taken care of. Leaving it to the wolves was not sure enough, there could still be traces. She would have to bury the corpse tonight or tomorrow. The odds were good that no trace of it would ever be discovered. It was more than he deserved, but only a fool would leave a corpse lying around on her land.

Forget bolts of green light, she _had_ to have imagined that. Hell, except for the man leaning on her, she was ready to believe that she had imagined the whole thing. After all, this was Alaska, not the Twilight Zone.

By the time they reached her cabin, the man could barely stand, even with her help. Good thing her bedroom was on the ground floor, she reasoned as he fell onto the bed, panting in exhaustion.

Stripping off his shirt and pants, she murmured reassuringly, "You get some rest, friend. I'll call a doctor."

"_No_!" he protested franticly, struggling to sit up. Memories of pain, biting cold, and fear filled his mind at the word. "No doctors, please..." He gave Amelia a horrified look. "Please..." He shook his head.

Startled, Amelia nodded reassuringly. "Okay, then. No doctor. Just... get some rest."

He nodded weakly. "Rest." He fell back onto the pillow and closed his eyes, unconscious.

Amelia shook her head and pulled a quilt over him. "What am I going to do with you, huh?" she muttered, shaking her head. 

She walked into her living-room and picked up her phone, wondering what the hell she was going to tell her fiancé. The truth was really not an option. Her strange guest would end up in jail and she would probably end up in a mental hospital somewhere. Shaking her head, she dialed.

"Fairbanks PD, Jonathan Stiles."

"Hey, baby." 

She tried to sound casual. Lying to Jonathan was not something she had ever done before. Lying over something this huge should have been difficult, but, strangely, she found it almost easy to pretend that she was _not_ an accessory after the fact to murder. After all, it had not really been murder. Just... justice. If Jonathan had not been a cop, she knew, he would have felt the same.

"Amelia! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Feeling almost as if she were in a very strange dream, she spoke easily. "Um, I've got a minor... situation out here."

"What kind of situation, luv?"

"There's an unconscious man in my bedroom."

There was a long silence. "Amelia?" he finally asked. "You're... kidding, yeah?"

"No such luck, Jonathan. I was on a hike and found this guy." She paused thoughtfully. "He doesn't seem to be hurt, but he's... very out of it." That much was true. There had not been a mark on him when she had undressed him. "I figure I'll let him sleep it off and then give him a ride into town."

"What is he? Drunk?"

"Don't think so, Jonathan. Just... kind of out of it."

"You safe out there alone with him?" Jonathan asked anxiously.

"Yeah, baby. He seems pretty well harmless."

"Looks can deceive, luv."

"I know. I just have a feeling about this guy."

"Okay. I'll trust your judgment, luv. _You_ are as cynical as they come, so if you trust the guy..."

Amelia sighed. "Yeah, Jonathan. Trusting I am not, but there is... something about this guy. He seems... I don't know. Gentle, I guess. Not like other guys."

"Okay. You want me to drive up tonight?" It was Friday, and Jonathan frequently made the 100 mile drive to visit her for the weekends.

She smiled. "I'd like that, baby."

"Okay... Um, I'll be a few hours later than usual. Lots of crap to finish up here."

Good. That would give her plenty of time to get rid of her little 'problem'. "I might already be in bed."

"Then I'll just climb in with you."

"Make sure you get the right bed." She laughed softly. "I think I'm going to keep this guy in the downstairs bedroom overnight." 

"Right. Don't climb in bed with any strange men. Good advice that." He laughed. "See you tonight. Love you."

"Love you, too, baby." Amelia hung up with a sigh, wondering if she was doing the right thing in covering for this guy. She shook her head and turned on the Weather Channel. Time would tell. Certainly one fewer scum-bag was no great loss to the world.

Restless and worried, she walked back into the bedroom where the man had not moved, except to clutch both hands to his chest. Shaking her head, she gently opened his clenched fists and took the device he had been shot with and the one he had used to killed the other man. She glanced at them for a moment before placing them on top of his clothes. She glanced at him reflectively, distressed by her instant affinity for and desire to help this man.

She would not have described herself as particularly trusting or altruistic, so why had she taken this strange, potentially dangerous man into her home without hesitation? Especially after what she had seen? He _had_, after all, killed a man. The man's actions may have justified his murder, but still...

Walking away would have been so much easier, and she was sure that she could have lived with herself afterwards, but it had not seemed an option. The look he had given her, more like a child than an adult... It had brought out a need to nurture and protect that she had not felt since the death of her husband and son five years ago.

She gently smoothed his hair out of his face, sighing. She would have guessed his age at slightly over forty, but he _seemed_ much, much younger. There was an air of childlike innocence about the sleeping man, something that called out to her and made her want to take care of him.

Deciding that he would probably be out of it for a while, and therefore okay to leave alone, she left the house to take care of her 'little problem'.

***

Cole opened his eyes with a groan and tried to sit up. A gentle hand restrained him. "You might want to stay on your back for a while, friend. You look like hell..." an equally gentle voice whispered.

"Hell?" he repeated in confusion. The voice was female, which he took as a good sign. The word reminded him of another word, a word he liked very much. "Mel?" he asked hopefully.

"No. Not Mel. Amelia."

He opened his eyes slowly and stared at the unfamiliar woman in confusion for a few moments before the pain in his head became unbearable. He closed his eyes and clutched his head with a groan. "Not Mel..." he repeated in confusion. "Where... Where is Mel?" he asked weakly.

Amelia squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "I don't know who Mel is, friend. Is there some way I can contact him? Does he have a last name? A phone-number?"

"Not he. Mel... is woman." He opened his eyes and  groaned again.

"Head hurting you?" she asked gently, turning the bedside lamp off.

He nodded, panting harshly. "Yes."

"Well, let's get you some aspirin, okay..." She rose. "Will you be okay for a few minutes?" she asked gently.

"Yes..." He nodded weakly.

"Okay. I'll be right back." When she left the bedroom, she was confronted by the smell of pancakes. "Hey, baby..." she muttered, hugging him from behind as he cooked.

He grinned at her. "Hey! Thought you'd _never_ get up."

"I was tired. Lugging that guy all the way back here..." _That and digging a grave._

"Speaking of which, is Rip Van Winkle up yet?"

"Yeah. Nasty headache." She opened a cabinet and pulled down a bottle of aspirin and a water glass. 

"Maybe he conked his head…" Jonathan suggested with a shrug. He had looked the man over the night before and not found any obvious signs of injury, but that did not necessarily _mean_ much. "Of course, with that fever, it could as easily be the flu or something. You get your shot this year?"

"You know it." She filled the glass, then set it down on the counter, turning to face him. "What do you figure? Lost camper?" Overnight, she had fully managed to convince herself that she had imagined everything except finding the man. In the light of day, it was easy to consider the rest just an artifact of a restless night's sleep.

He pulled the pan off of the fire and walked over to her. "Now that he's awake, you can ask him..." he pointed out, pulling her into a hug.

"Dunno. He seemed kind of disoriented."

"Give him a chance. He's been out for eighteen hours." He nuzzled her neck.

Amelia laughed softly as she pulled away. "I'll see if he's hungry. You may be cooking for three."

He nodded placidly. He was in the habit of making more than was called for anyway. He looked up as she started for the bedroom. "Oh, hello." He smiled at the large man leaning against her doorframe. "You should probably lie back down, man. You don't look so good."

He nodded meekly and turned around, grabbing onto the doorframe for support. Jonathan closed the distance between them and held the man up, helping him back to the bed. Before he had become a cop, Jonathan had spent many years as an EMT, and he had seen some men in pretty bad shape in that time, but this guy... he was _sick_. Pale with large black circles around his eyes, weak as a kitten, not entirely cognizant of his surroundings... He hoped to God that whatever the guy had was not contagious.

"What's your name, man?" he asked as he helped him back into the bed.

"Name?" Cole repeated. He frowned thoughtfully and closed his eyes, trying to remember. He knew he had a name. _Everyone_ had a name, after all. He just could not remember what it was. Panic spread as he realized that there were _many_ things that he could not remember. He whimpered and pulled himself into a tight ball, rocking himself on the bed. Something was very, very wrong with him, and it went well beyond the excruciating pain in his head.

Jonathan stared, wide-eyed. "Shit..." he muttered, glancing at Amelia.

"Oh, you poor guy..." she muttered, sitting next to him and gently rubbing his back, hoping to comfort him this way. When he had relaxed somewhat, she asked, "You honestly don't know, do you?"

He regarded them with wide, frightened eyes, and slowly shook his head.

"That's going to make it very hard to figure out who you are..." Jonathan said gently.

"How are we going to get you home?" Amelia asked him quietly, placing a reassuring arm around his shoulder.

"Home?" Cole repeated. Where _was_ home? He had two images of home in his head. One was a beautiful, warm place. The other was cold and not at all beautiful, but it had Mel. After several minutes of confused reflection, he spoke. "Home is... with Mel."

Jonathan nodded, relieved. "If he lives with someone, there's eventually going to be a missing person's report filed on him..." he muttered to Amelia.

She nodded. "Does Mel have a last name?" she prompted gently, hoping that he would be able to remember more when he was calmer. He was shaking and still occasionally whimpering softly, so she gently rubbed his bare back with one hand and kept her voice low and soothing. "You're going to be okay. It's okay. We'll take care of you until we find Mel." 

"Mel worries when I don't call..." he began.

"Do you know her phone-number?"

"Phone... number?" he repeated uncertainly. It sounded familiar, but he was not sure what it meant.

"Yeah, you know. Her phone-number. So you can call her on the phone."

"Phone?" he queried.

"God, you must have _really_ hurt your head..." Amelia muttered, seizing on Jonathan's guess and pushing thoughts of green lasers from her mind.

Jonathan sighed and nodded. "Maybe we _should _call a doctor."

Cole shook his head. "No doctor! Please..."

"No doctor. It's okay..." Amelia whispered reassuringly. "You're going to be okay. I promise, we'll take care of you."

"Thank you..." he breathed.

Amelia nodded. "You hungry?"

He nodded tentatively. He felt too ill to really _want_ to eat, but there was also a gnawing pain in his stomach that was probably hunger.

"Okay." She smiled. "Take these pills, and breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."

As he took the pills, a memory, an echo in his mind, filled his awareness.

_"Have you been working _all_ night?"_

_"Yes, Mel."_

_Sounding amused and faintly exasperated, "Well, give it a rest already. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes." _

_"Yes, Mel."_

Cole sighed deeply, reaching for more only to find that there _was_ no more to the memory.

"Something wrong?" Amelia asked, rising.

"Mel used to make me breakfast."

She reached out and gently dried his tears. "I promise, you, we _will_ find her."

He nodded, reassured by her quiet certainty. "Thank you..."

She smiled and nodded. "Stay put, I'll get your breakfast."


	2. Searching

Note: I like Gwen… I haven't liked any of Jess' other replacements, so I'm submitting my own. If you like her, she'll probably be in future fics.

**Chapter 2 -- Searching**

"Here you go, Counselor." Gwen, Mel's latest attempt to find a replacement for Jess, smiled slightly as she handed Jonas Carr his drink.

He took a small sip and smiled back. This one might actually last. She was quiet, practical, down-to-earth, and _great_ at mixing drinks. And, best of all, so far she had neither come close to burning down the bar _or_ to getting Mel arrested. She was a grad student originally from some small town in Indiana, Jonas knew from Mel, who spent much of her free time with her nose buried in textbooks.

"You can call me Jonas, Gwen..." he told her with a smile. 

She smiled and nodded. "Okay, Jonas."

"Mel tells me you're studying psychology?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir. Forensic psychology."

He nodded. He had heard the tale-end of a conversation about criminal psychology between Gwen and Cole the week before. Mel had told him later that they had been at it for almost five hours before Gwen had been forced to break it off because she had work to do. Cole, Jonas recalled, had seemed intrigued by what she had to say.

"Convenient, that. You want to go into law enforcement and you work in a cop-bar."

She smiled and nodded, absently washing glasses as they talked. "Beats my last job..." she muttered.

"What was that?" Jonas asked.

"I was a stripper..." she admitted, bowing her head. "Good money, but not the best job. You know..." She shook her head and glanced over Jonas' shoulder to where Mel was pacing around the bar. "She always like that when Mister Hauser doesn't call?"

"Pretty much." Jonas looked over his shoulder with a sigh. "How long has it been?"

"A day and a half. He was supposed to be back today, I guess, but he wasn't and he hasn't called."

"Hmm..."

"They must be pretty attached."

"They are. She really cares about him."

"He cares about her, too. You can see it every time he looks at her." She smiled sadly. "God, look at her. She's going to give herself an ulcer."

Jonas nodded and walked over to Mel. "Why don't you come sit down?" he asked gently.

She looked up, startled. She had been so preoccupied worrying about Cole that she had not even noticed him come in. "Oh, hi, Jonas." She gave him a forced smile.

"Mel, come sit." He gave her a gentle smile and steered her towards the bar.

Mel sat down and glanced at Gwen. "Could I have a--"

"Gin martini?" Gwen guessed. She had a good memory, so once a person had ordered a drink more than once, she was good at associating it with them.

"Please." Mel nodded. "Big one."

"One big, very dry gin martini coming up." Gwen found a shaker and filled it with ice. She splashed vermouth onto the ice and looked up at Mel as she swirled it around in the shaker a few times before dumping it. "No word from Mister Hauser yet, Miss Porter?" she asked, adding gin to the shaker.

Mel shook her head with a sigh. "I'm... sure it's nothing serious..." she lied as Gwen poured the martini into an oversized glass and handed it to Mel.

Gwen glanced up curiously. Mel was, from her tone of voice, clearly lying through her teeth. "Does he forget to call often?" she asked quietly.

Mel shook her head. "He knows I worry. He's probably... out of range, or something."

"Where is he, Mel?" Jonas asked gently. 

"Canada. Vancouver."

Jonas glanced down as his pager went off, irritated. Thanks to Mel, he was starting to rebuild his practice, but there were times when it was annoying to be in demand again. "Mel, I've got to go now."

She nodded. "Okay, Jonas."

"If you need anything at all, you call me. Night or day, Mel. I mean it." He squeezed her arm gently, worried about her. She had obviously only grown _more_ attached to Cole since she had talked Jonas into defending him. The poor thing was obviously worried sick about him.

Mel smiled. "Thanks, Jonas. Talk to you later. Bye."

He nodded. "Bye, Mel. Goodbye, Gwen."

"Bye, Counselor." Gwen waved after him as he left, then picked up his half-empty glass and dumped it. As she washed the glass, she looked up at Mel. "You okay, Miss Porter?" she asked quietly.

"I will be, Gwen." Mel nodded.

"Maybe you should file a missing person's report..." Gwen suggested tentatively.

"Oh, no I can't... It's too..." Mel shook her head, reluctant to bring Cole's name to police attention. "No."

Gwen sighed. "Look, I uh... overheard this conversation you two had before he left for Vancouver..." she admitted.

"What?" Mel looked up, alarmed. "What did you hear?"

Gwen bowed her head. "Voices were raised, I couldn't _help_ but hear..." she explained anxiously, afraid that she was about to get fired. "I'm sorry..."

"What did you hear?" Mel repeated more gently.

"Um, that he doesn't really do tech support. He's some kind of cop or something, and... he was going after some perv who gets his jollies by killing little girls."

"That all?" Mel asked cautiously.

Gwen nodded. "Yeah, that was it. Look, Miss Porter, this Ansen guy... he sounds _really_ dangerous."

"Believe me, I know that..." Mel whispered, draining her glass.

"Miss Porter, I don't understand. If he's missing, shouldn't his agency know or something?"

Mel sighed. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to file a report. But after his brief capture by the government and after his arrest, she was reluctant to bring his name to official attention again. His situation on earth was just so tenuous... 

"Gwen, please. This is... complicated. Cole is... very deep cover. It's, um..."

"Complicated?" Gwen ventured.

Mel nodded and tapped her glass. "Make me another, will you?"

Gwen nodded and complied. "If it were my boyfriend..." she began.

"Cole is _not_ my boyfriend!" Mel snapped, shaking her head. One more thing about life that sucked.

"If he's hurt somewhere... Or sick..." 

"_You think I haven't thought of that_?" Mel demanded, glaring at the girl. 

It was, in fact, something that she worried about every time Cole left the house. What if he got hurt? Or captured? Or killed? Every time he went after a fugitive, she had to face the fact that he might not be coming home. That was why she got so worried when he did not call. Not having a relationship was one thing. _That_ she could handle. Not caring about him, though... that was impossible.

Gwen bowed her head. "I'm sorry, Miss Porter. I know you must be _so _worried..."

Mel looked up at the girl with a sigh. "You have no idea, Gwen. Look, going to the cops with this would be a very bad idea. I can't explain _why_..."

Gwen nodded, accepting this. "Mister Hauser is a nice man. I hope he's okay. I'll, um, say a prayer that he's okay..." She smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure that it's really nothing, you know. Maybe his plane got delayed or something..."

Mel smiled, grateful. It had only been a day and a half. _Anything_ could have happened to delay Cole that long, she reminded herself firmly. Nothing was necessarily _wrong_. If he had not contacted her by Monday, she would consider filing a report, but the idea continued to trouble her. Cole had no official identity: no birth certificate, no social security number, not even a driver's license. Would she even be _allowed_ to file a missing person's report without so much as a date of birth on him?

She gave Gwen a forced smile. "Yeah, you're probably right. I worry too much."  Sighing, she rubbed her forehead. "I'll be upstairs if you need anything."

She nodded. "Okay, Miss Porter. Try to take it easy."

Mel nodded. "Yeah, Gwen. Thanks." 

She rose and walked up the stairs, pausing outside of Cole's room. Shrugging, she entered. Not that she had any real reason to be there, she just wanted to be inside the room. Everything about it was a reminder of Cole, and he spent so much time inside of it that it was as if it had somehow become an extension of him. She spent a lot of time in the room when he was away, always careful never to actually _touch_ anything. Sometimes it was just comforting to be in a place that had so much of Cole in it. 

It did not help that this had been the last place that she had seen Cole, though. Gwen had been right, voices _had_ been raised, and a disagreement that had started in the bar had ended here. Cole had explained, very calmly, as he always was, that Ansen was a Vardian child-killer. He had killed several of Cole's colleagues before his capture. Ansen had started killing again shortly after his arrival in Chicago and once the police were on his trail, he had fled for Canada. Cole had quickly discovered a string of murders with the same M.O. in British Columbia, near Vancouver.

Mel had pled, with increasing vehemence, for Cole to just let the local police handle it. The last time, with the twin Orsusian assassins, had just been too close. Cole, with his normal quiet certainty, had simply refused to be moved by her arguments. Ansen was a killer and if he was allowed to vanish into another country, he would be able to continue unchecked for some time. That simply could not be allowed. Having said that, he had returned to his room.

Mel had followed, not ready to end the conversation. Looking surprised that she had followed, Cole had once again explained that he could not allow Ansen to kill again. He had lightly touched her throat, the way he sometimes did, and spoke in gentle, reassuring tones. Mel had touched his chest and whispered for him to be careful, almost a plea, and he had assured her that he would be. Another gentle caress of her throat, a light touch of her cheek, and he had been gone, leaving Mel staring after him.

Rationally she had known that Cole was right, but it had not made her any less worried, and it had not stopped her from sitting alone in his room, quietly crying, for several minutes. She always worried when he left to pursue some new fugitive, this time worse than normal. Even knowing that there was little that she could do to help him, she hated letting him go alone, wanted to be by his side, to help him.

And now she sat alone in his room again, quietly crying and cursing herself for having let him go alone. And in a day and a half, she knew, she would have to go down to the police station and report him missing. Whatever had happened, it was nothing minor. With Cole, it hardly could be. Mel lowered her head to his desk and sobbed silently.

***

"Social security number?" Detective Parker asked Mel quietly.

For what seemed like the hundredth time, Mel shook her head. "I'm sorry..."

"Any way you can find it?" Detective Parker was in her forties, pale, gaunt, and obviously overworked, but she kept her voice gentle and understanding as she worked with Mel to fill out a missing person's report in the absence of _any_ personal information about the man.

Mel shook her head. "I'm sorry, but he doesn't really keep that kind of information around the house." 

She sighed. This was more frustrating that she had thought it would be. There were too many questions that she simply did not have a satisfactory answer to. With many of them, she was lying through her teeth to the Detective, giving the day they had met as his date of birth, for instance. With others, though, there was no good answer she could give.

Detective Parker had been working Missing Person's long enough to know that sigh when she heard it. She casually reached into her top drawer and produced a box of Kleenex, extending them to Mel just as the tears started forming in her eyes. Mel grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes, furious with herself for behaving like she was. She mumbled an apology and took a deep breath, trying to compose herself.

Detective Parker rose and closed the door to the office. "You're fine, Miss Porter. Would you like a glass of water?"

Mel shook her head. "No. I'm sorry... I'm not normally like this."

"You're worried about your friend. It's understandable." She smiled reassuringly at Mel and patted her shoulder.

"I, uh, have a picture..." Mel offered, reaching into her purse and pulling out a photo of Cole and herself that Jess had taken in London. Mel had an arm around Cole's waist. Cole was staring curiously at the camera, trying to figure out what it was for.

"That's wonderful." Detective Parker took the picture and glanced at it, thinking that the man looked a bit like that underwear model. "We'll attach a copy of this to the report." She smiled at Mel. "Does he have any distinguishing marks? Scars? Tattoos? Anything like that?"

Mel shook her head. "No, nothing like that."

"And does he have any friends or relatives in Vancouver? Anywhere in British Columbia?"

Mel shook her head. "No. Pretty much everyone he knows is here in the city."

"Any e-mail relationships with anybody?"

Mel shook her head. "No, nothing like that. Look, I know that a lot of times when men disappear it's just because they're sick of their lives wherever they are, but Cole's not like that. He's too tied here to just leave without a word. And... he left things behind that he would never have left if he were leaving..." Like a storage unit with over a dozen alien convicts inside. 

Mel, who had not slept since Saturday, fought an urge to giggle at the thought of what the Detective's reaction would be if she mentioned this. She grabbed another tissue and held it over her mouth, disguising the stifled giggle as a stifled sob.

"Don't worry, Miss Porter. We _will_ find him, I promise you. I've got some connections in Vancouver. I'll get right on this."

Mel nodded and composed herself. "Thank you, Detective."

Detective Parker glanced down at the form one more time. "Why don't you go home and see if you can't get some sleep. Victor tells me that you haven't been."

Mel's eyes widened. "Vic? You've been talking to Vic?" That could complicate things. Vic _hated_ Cole and was more than a little jealous. He could tell Detective Parker a lot of things that would make her think that Cole was unstable enough to vanish under his own power.

"You used to date him, didn't you?"

"Vic? Yeah..." Mel nodded cautiously.

"That's what I thought. He's worried about you, Miss Porter."

"He's jealous of Cole..." Mel told her quickly, not sure _why_ she was doing so. "He..."

Detective Parker nodded. She had gotten that impression from Vic. "I know. Don't worry about it. Separating the facts from the opinions is a big part of what any Detective does. You leave this in my hands. I'll be in touch."

Mel nodded gratefully. Detective Parker sounded too sincere to be brushing her off. "Thank you." She rose.

"Miss Porter?"

"Yeah?"

"Try not to worry too much."

"Okay..." Mel nodded and left.

Detective Parker stared at the half-finished form in her hands for a moment, then picked up the phone and punched a few keys.

"Homicide, Vic Bruno."

"Hey, Victor. It's Parker. Drop by my office when you get a minute."

"I just happen to have a few free minutes now."

"Then get your ass down here."

Vic laughed over the phone. "You charmer, you."

She hung up the phone, shaking her head. "Close the door..." she told Vic when he arrived a few moments later.

Vic complied and sat down. "So, what's up?"

"Just had Mel Porter in here."

"Ah, yes, the case of the incredible vanishing weirdo."

"Stop being a jealous git and listen to me for a minute."

Vic blinked in surprise but nodded. "Listening."

"You had a girl like Mel to come home to, would you choose to disappear?"

Vic reluctantly shook his head. "No, guess I wouldn't. Cole Hauser may be a weirdo, but he's not _that_ much of one."

She nodded. "Victor, I think you need to prepare Miss Porter for the possibility that he is _not_ coming home."

Vic sighed. He was more than a little suspicious of Cole and all of his bizarre behaviors, but he knew that if something happened to Cole, it would kill Mel. "You think he's dead?"

"Dead or very badly hurt... Or maybe he really _is_ unstable enough to just up and vanish for no good cause." Detective Parker shrugged. "Now, I _do_ plan on pursuing this thing, but I'm not holding out a lot of hope for a successful recovery. When people that age, tied to a place socially and economically, disappear, we don't usually get them back in one piece."

Vic nodded. "Poor Mel."

She nodded. "Give her a few days, then start gently preparing her."

Vic nodded. "Will do. Thanks, Parker."

"No problem, Victor. Let me know if I can help."

"Help by doing your job."

"Yeah, Victor." She nodded as he left.

This was definitively a strange case, she reflected. Most men who went missing were young, unattached or in bad relationships, and generally had financial problems. Cole Hauser was older, devoid of financial problems, and, in spite of Miss Porter's insistence to the contrary, probably very seriously and happily involved with her. His entire life, according to Miss Porter, was in Chicago: his work, his friends, everything he knew. The man that Mel Porter had described would _not_ just vanish into thin air unless something had happened.

But what could happen to such a man? He did technical support on the Internet. How could a man like that have enemies or get into trouble? 

Now, the man Vic Bruno described just _might_ decide to vanish without a trace. According to Victor, Cole Hauser was little more than a bundle of weird mannerisms and bizarre behaviors, irresponsible and probably mentally unstable as well judging by some of his behaviors. The first time Victor had met the man, he had been lying in a chalk outline at a homicide-scene.

Such a man might easily have many enemies. According to Victor, he went out of his way to find trouble. Even if he had not simply decided to vanish, it was not inconceivable that he could find himself in very serious, and potentially life-threatening, trouble.

So which account was accurate?

She shook her head with a sigh. She _would_ pursue, but she suspected that, one way or the other, she would just be going through the motions… 


	3. Memories

**Chapter 3 -- Memories**

"Good morning, Amelia..." Cole said gently as he walked into the living-room.

She looked up from her computer, smiling at him. "Hey!" 

"Where's Jonathan?"

"It's Monday. He had to go to work. He left hours ago. Breakfast's in the fridge if you're feeling hungry."

"Not really, no."

"How're you feeling?"

He shrugged. "Still tired and weak. And confused." Sighing deeply, he added, "I miss Mel."

She rose and walked over to him. "We'll find her. Jonathan's been working on it, and we _will_ find her."

"Thank you for all your help." He raised his hand to her throat, then dropped it, frowning and closing his eyes. Too much like touching Mel... He liked this woman who was helping him very much, but she was no Mel, even if everything she said and did seemed to remind him of something Mel had once said or did. Everything reminded him of Mel yet he could remember nothing of himself.

Amelia took his hand gently and walked him to the couch. Sitting down with him, she asked, "Why don't you tell me about her?"

He shook his head. "I don't remember."

"Tell me what you _do_ remember..." she suggested gently. "Maybe it'll jog your memory."

He nodded and leaned back, closing his eyes. It was not hard to remember things about Mel, what was hard was stringing the fragmented memories together into any kind of coherent whole. A touch, a smile, a fragment of conversation, but nothing that even resembled context. He could not even remember what she looked like. Except for one feature.

"She has pretty eyes." He smiled. "They're beautiful, and so expressive." He opened his eyes and glanced at Amelia. "That color..." he pointed to her.

"Do I look like her?" Amelia asked curiously.

He shook his head. "I don't think so. I can't remember." He reached up and gently touched her hair, closing his eyes and feeling it. Mel's felt different, he was sure, although he could not recall what it looked like. "I don't think so..." he repeated, shaking his head and rising. 

"Hey, it's going to be okay..." she assured him, getting up and touching his shoulder. "I have no idea what this must be like for you, but I know that it can't be easy. I'll help you however I can."

_Tears in his eyes. "I need your help, Mel."_

_Mel reaching up and wiping away the tears, smiling lovingly. "I know..."_

He turned around and looked at Amelia. "Thank you." Shaking his head, he walked to the bookshelf. "You must read a lot."

She nodded. "All the time. You read much?"

"I don't know."

She walked to the shelf and examined the hundred of volumes thoughtfully. Finally she pulled one down. "Here, try this one."

"'Nightfall and other short stories'?" he read.

She nodded. "It's science fiction."

"Science fiction?" he repeated, regarding her quizzically.

"Yeah, you know... um, aliens and stuff."

"Aliens?"

_Mel's frantic voice, "Aliens?"_

Cole dropped the book, startled by how strongly the memory of that one-word question had shaken him. Amelia bent to retrieve it, glancing up at him. He was shaking slightly, looking almost afraid.

"Okay, no Asimov for you." She replaced the book and pulled down her copy of 'Around the World in 80 Days'. "This is good. You'll like this."

"What is it about?"

"A bet."

"A bet?" He frowned thoughtfully. "Wager?" he queried.

She nodded. "Yeah."

Cole nodded and glanced down at the book. "I'll read it."

She smiled. "Cool. It's a fairly quick read." She nodded back to her computer. "I need to get back to work, okay?"

"What do you do?"

"I'm a writer."

"What do you write?"

"Textbooks, mostly. Chemistry. Sometimes I write articles for the Scientific American or Omni."

"Oh." 

He nodded and walked over to the couch, opening the book and briefly wondering if he would, having forgotten so much else, remember how to read. Fortunately, he did more or less remember, and after a few minutes, he was quite absorbed in converting the symbols on the page into information in his mind. The book was about a man in London.

He stopped reading, frowning thoughtfully. London... was in England. He had been there with Mel, once. Why had they gone all the way to London? Mel's friend was there, that was why. They had been visiting her and her fiancé. He closed his eyes, trying to remember something, _anything_, about their time in London. An overheard snatch of conversation recurred to him.

_Mel had been explaining to Jess that she was not 'involved' with Cole. _

_Jess had wanted to know, "Well, then, why are you sharing a room?"_

_"To save money! It's not like we'll be sleeping in the same bed..."_

Cole rubbed his eyes thoughtfully, trying without luck to construct a mental image of either Mel or Jess. A confused flurry of images flashed through his mind, overpowering every other memory and making it impossible to focus on any one. 

Mel's eyes... a man's unpleasant laughter... a smell like flowers but also, strangely, different... overheard fragments of a dozen conversations, all experienced at once... the taste of beer... the feel of Mel's hair against his cheek... the sound of her quiet laughter... her arm around him, supporting him. 

Every time he tried to focus on one of the fragments, the dull pain in his head increased exponentially. He stopped when the pain in his head became unbearable. Sighing, he rose, setting the book aside. He walked into the kitchen and helped himself to several aspirin. 

Amelia looked up from the computer. "Headache again?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

She rose and joined him, lightly touching her hand to his forehead. "Feels like you're running a fever, too."

He shrugged. "I feel fine. Except for the headache and how tired I am."

"Why don't you go lie down?" she suggested gently. "Being in a dark room might help your head."

"Am I sick?" he asked her curiously.

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe you... hit your head or something."

"Tell me where you found me?" he asked, suddenly curious to know what had happened to him to cause this.

"Get some rest. We'll talk later."

"Yes, Amelia." 

He nodded and walked into the bedroom. Since he was still very weak and it was downstairs, Amelia had made him take that one and had moved herself upstairs to the guest-room. She was very good to him, like Mel. Sighing and shaking his head, he closed the door and pulled his shirt off. He started to take his pants off, but paused, reaching into the pockets. There were two strange metal objects in one of the pockets. How had they gotten there? Did they belong to him?

He supposed they must have. Shrugging, he tucked them deeply into his pocket so that they would not fall out and pulled his pants off, folding them neatly and placing them on a chair, along with his shirt. He pulled back the blankets and started to climb in, then paused. A dozen variants of the phrase 'have you been at it all night?', all in Mel's voice, flooded his mind. He frowned, wondering how many all-nighters he had pulled since he met Mel, and why Mel was so interested in them. He shook his head, deciding that they were probably just attempts on her part to make conversation first thing in the morning.

As he climbed into bed, another memory edged its way into his consciousness. 

_He had been working at the computer all night, when Mel's voice distracted him. She was giggling softly from bed and murmuring to someone. He rose and walked over to the bed, curious. She had been wearing red, and looking so very beautiful..._

Cole smiled, hanging on to the mental image of a woman, flush from sleep with a slight smile on her face and her blondish hair half-concealing her face. She had a beautiful smile, too, he remembered as he pulled up the blankets, although he still had no real clue what she looked like. What had he been doing working all night when that beautiful creature had been waiting in bed? 

Confusion, contentment, frustration, desire so strong it was almost painful, joy, uncertainty, completeness, anxiety... all vied for supremacy when he thought of this amazing creature. Completeness, though, that was the one that overrode all the others. Mel made him complete... and he could not even remember what she looked like.

He shook his head and closed his eyes, feeling weary beyond words. Sleep came quickly and dreamlessly, a welcomed dose of oblivion to the hopelessly confused man.

***

"Hey, how'd it go?" Gwen asked gently as Mel returned to the Watchfire.

"Badly." Mel shook her head and sat down. "Can I have a--"

"Cup of tea?" Gwen suggested.

"Well, I was going to say--"

"Cup of tea..." Gwen repeated gently but firmly. "Followed by a nice nap."

Mel stared at her, startled. It was the closest Gwen had even come to questioning anything she had said. "Okay, _mom_."

Gwen smiled and wandered off to make Mel a cup of tea, leaving Mel to shake her head. Gwen was right, though, even if she had not spoken aloud. Mel had been drinking far too much lately. It was not healthy and it was not helping. She smiled at Gwen when she returned with a steaming mug.

"You'll like this, it's chamomile. It'll help you sleep." Gwen rested her elbows on the bar and watched Mel as she took her first sip.

"It's good." Mel smiled at her, noticing for the first time that, while both ears were pierced in more than one place, she wore two different styles of earrings on her earlobes. The one on the left was a small silver stud, the other was a dangling silver triangle.

"You like?" she asked, noticing the scrutiny Mel was paying to the dangling earring. "Belonged to my mother, but she lost its partner."

"And you wear it anyway?" Mel asked.

She shrugged. "Sentimental, you know." She touched it absently. "One of the few things I have left of my folks."  She reached up and touched the cuff on the top of her right ear. "This used to be my dad's wedding-band."

"Silver?" Mel asked.

"White gold. Had it cut down and reshaped. You like?"

"It's beautiful." Mel leaned closer to examine the engravings on its surface. "They both are."

She smiled. "Thanks. You should finish that before it gets cold. I can get more honey for it if you'd like..."

"No, it's fine." Mel smiled and took a long drink of the tea. It really did taste wonderful. "Thanks for being around..." she muttered, knowing it sounded silly.

"Not a problem." Gwen smiled at her. "They'll find him, don't worry."

"I can't help but worrying."

"Don't worry..." Gwen repeated firmly. "Fate works in strange ways, but it does not bring people together to rip them apart. Not without good reason."

"What if fate has a good reason in this case?" Mel asked softly.

"Trust me when I tell you it does not. You'll find Mister Hauser when the time is right."

"Easy for you to say."

"Yeah, I guess it is." Gwen nodded slightly. "But the two of you are too right for each other for this to turn out any way but happy. Have faith."

"Faith..." Mel repeated.

"Such a tiny word, isn't it?" Gwen asked gently. "Yet there's so much to it."

"What do you have faith in?"

"Me?" 

Gwen regarded her with wide eyes and a crooked grin and, for a second, Mel was sure that she was going to say that there was nothing in which she had faith. Then her smile softened slightly and she patted Mel's hand gently, reminding Mel of her grandmother. 

"Yeah, you..." Mel nodded.

"I have faith in the shape of the universe, and in the certainty that for every darkness there is a light that will shine through it." She patted Mel's hand again and then turned her back, picking up a glass that needed to be cleaned. "I also believe that love will always find a way." Having washed the glass, she turned to face Mel again. "Don't you agree?"

"Sometimes. Not always."

Gwen smiled faintly. "If you say so..."

Mel stared at her, surprised by the young woman's quiet certainty. "You seem so sure..."

"I am. Or maybe I'm just a romantic fool." Gwen grinned at her. "Why don't you go get some rest."

"I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep."

"The chamomile will help with that."

Mel nodded. She did feel tired, and calmer than she had in days. "Okay. I think I'll try that."

"Okay. Yell if you need anything."

"Will do. Thanks, Gwen." She turned and started for the stairs.

"Sleep well, Miss Porter." 

Gwen smiled after Mel, shaking her head. Her new employer was a nice woman, but she had a lot to learn about matters of faith. And, judging from her continued denials that there was anything between her and Cole, she also had a great deal to learn about matters of love.

Mel sighed as she closed and locked the door behind her. Gwen had been right about at least one thing. She needed sleep. Shaking her head, she walked into her bedroom, the only room in the house with no memories of Cole attached. Not that it mattered. She still saw his face as soon as she closed her eyes. That in itself was not uncommon. 

Sighing, she opened her eyes and pulled off her clothes, changing into a heavy pair of pajamas. Red... she had worn them in London. She almost changed out of them, not wanting to deal with that set of memories right now. He had come so close to death...

"No..." she said firmly, climbing under the covers and turning off the lights. "No unpleasant memories, no bad dreams, _nothing_." She closed her eyes and rolled onto her side. "If you remember one thing about Cole between now and when you wake up, it will be how good it feels to kiss him."

She smiled, wondering how Cole would have reacted if he had seen her lecturing herself in this manner. She loved that bemused expression he gave her when she was doing something that just totally confused him. His expression was normally so serious. Hell, he had even looked serious when he had kissed her. He had been wearing the same, purposeful expression that he assumed when he was walking into a particularly uncertain situation. 

Of course, she supposed that, to him, it must have _been_ an uncertain situation. She smiled and sighed gently, loosing herself in the memory. There was something incredibly comforting about it, and as she drifted off to sleep, she could almost feel his lips against hers and his arms around her. As she sank fully into sleep, she retained the sensation of his arms around her, comforting and protecting her, and her sleep was, mercifully, free of the dreams that had been keeping her up since Cole's disappearance.


	4. a Familiar Voice

**Chapter 4 -- a Familiar Voice**

Amelia was not surprised to find Cole sitting on the porch Tuesday night, staring at the sky. The Aurora Borealis was amazing at this latitude, and the absence of city lights made it that much more amazing. Even after years up here, Amelia was still rendered speechless by the phenomena. Her 'guest' was the same way. Three nights in a row he had fallen asleep out here, and she had been forced to wake him up and walk him inside. Every time, he had had tears in his eyes.

Sighing, she sat down next to him. "How's your head?" she asked gently, patting his knee.

Cole did not take his eyes from the hauntingly beautiful and strangely familiar sight above. "It hurts less when I don't try to remember." He dried his cheeks absently and glanced at her. "Has Jonathan found anything yet?" he asked hopefully.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. It would help if you could remember more about where you live than that it's cold and dreary."

"I'm sorry, Amelia. It just..." He hit his forehead in annoyance. "My brain won't work right." He glanced at her, his brown eyes reflecting anxiety. "There's something wrong with me."

She sighed and nodded. In addition to the amnesia, he was _still_ almost too weak to walk, was sleeping fourteen hours a day, and he seemed to be suffering from migraines as well. 

"You need to see a doctor."

"No..." He shook his head, anxiety replaced by fear. "I can't."

"_Why_?" Amelia demanded in frustration, shaking her head. 

He flinched away from her, startled. "I'm sorry..." he muttered in a low voice.

Amelia sighed and took a deep breath. Her initial assessment of the man as gentle and childlike had only been reinforced in the past few days. He was like no other man she had ever met. She could not find it in herself to be upset with him for his continued obstinacy. It was borne out of terror, she could tell. At some point, this man had been pretty badly abused by some medical professional somewhere, and she suspected that the experience was one of the few memories that he retained.

"It's okay. You don't have to be scared. I won't let anyone hurt you." She smiled reassuringly and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

"Thank you..." he whispered, smiling at her.

She grinned back, patting his knee. He had a great body, admittedly, but it was far more like dealing with a five-year-old than like dealing with a grown man. There was a quality about him that was difficult to explain. As intelligent as he did seem to be, he was also incredibly child-like and innocent. It might only have been the amnesia, but she found herself doubting it for some reason. 

"Any new memories today?" she asked gently.

"Dancing with Mel." He smiled, tears forming in his eyes. He closed his eyes and raised his arms as though holding a dance-partner. "Feels so nice to hold her..."

Amelia smiled faintly. "I'll bet it does. We'll have you back in her arms in no time."

He smiled. "Thank you."

She nodded and watched as he returned his attention to the Aurora Borealis. He was soon crying again. There was something vaguely charming about the way that he was able to shed tears without any shame. "You come out here every night and you look up there and you cry. Why?" she asked gently.

He looked back at her, smiling through his tears. "It reminds me of Mel." He touched his hand to his chest. "Here. It reminds me of what Mel has here." 

He looked skyward again. He was relatively sure that the shimmer, pulsing lights reminded him of something else as well, but he was not sure what. A place, maybe. Home? No, home was with Mel. The lights reminded him of Mel. There was no reason that they should remind him of anything _other_ than Mel. Mel, the only sure thing in his uncertain existence. His smile widened.

"Wow..." Amelia breathed, suddenly feeling a little teary-eyed herself. "Mel must be one hell of a woman and you... you must love her so much."

He nodded. "Yes."

It was not lost on her that almost all of his memories so far seemed to revolve around Mel. "Tell me about her."

He pointed skywards, to the shimmering, flicker colors there. "So much light and power and beauty..."

"What does she look like?"

"Her eyes are the same color as yours, I think, but her hair isn't black. It's blond, but not really… Um... I can't... there aren't really words."

_"Mel, there aren't words in the English language to describe how you look..."_

_"Actually, Vic, there are several..." Cole supplied helpfully. "Pretty. Attractive. Beautiful..."_

And still he could not remember her face. He sighed and shook his head, feeling so empty and alone. "Why can't I remember what she _looks_ like?"

"I don't know." Amelia patted his knee lightly. "It'll come to you, I promise. Tell me more about her. Maybe we can jog your memory that way. What did you remember about her today?" 

In fact, Amelia had been attempting this tactic since it had become clear that he was suffering from amnesia. At the end of the day, they would sit together and dissect every memory fragment, looking for something, _anything_ to tell them who he was.

He sighed and nodded. "I remembered our first dance. I can even remember how she smelled. Like... lavender." He smiled and closed his eyes. "She had to teach me how, and... my heart was beating so fast, but it felt so nice." He sighed again, a happy sound, as he recalled how wonderful she felt in his arms.

Amelia, who was beginning to feel like she was intruding on something very private, nodded. "Do you remember where you were?" she asked, changing track slightly.

"Inside the bar." He smiled and nodded. "After we got back from the museum. It was already closed, so it was just us."

"The bar?" she repeated curiously. It was the first time he had mentioned a bar.

"We live... _over_ a bar. Mel's bar."

Amelia nodded encouragingly. This could definitely be helpful in finding this guy's home. "What's it called."

Cole considered this for a few minutes. The name was special, meaningful to him for some reason, almost as if it should have been on the tip of his tongue. It also continued to elude him. As with so many things, thinking too deeply about it only increased the constant pain in his head. Still, he could not shake the feeling that, in this time and in this place, the name should be obvious. He tried to ignore the pain, to push through it, but it quickly became too intense to disregard.

With a sigh, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Amelia."

"It's okay." She smiled reassuringly. It was, at least, a start.

"I'll... tell you if I remember it." Sighing, he returned his attention to the Aurora Borealis. It was such a beautiful and strange phenomena, almost as if the sky were on fire. Fire? Fire... He rubbed his mouth thoughtfully. "Fire... Star-fire... Home-fire..." He shook his head after each incorrect guess. None were right yet, but he _would_ know.

Amelia watched curiously. He was approaching it very methodically. Trying a possibility, considering it, dismissing it, trying another. She remained silent, not wanting to intrude on his train of thought. If he could remember, it would be the first non-spontaneous memory he had recovered. Definitely a promising sign. And she could tell he was close.

"Something-_fire_... What? Wha..." He rubbed his mouth again, repeating the sound. "Wha... Which... Witch... Watch... fire. Watchfire?" A broad smile crossed his face. "_Yes_... The Watchfire." He nodded, satisfied in spite of the pounding headache he had managed to give himself.

"Watchfire?" Amelia repeated, smiling. "This is great... I'm going to go call Jonathan, okay?"

He nodded and smiled slightly as she rose and hurried back into the house. Maybe they could find Mel that way. He returned his attention to the Aurora Borealis and let his mind wander through the memory of their first dance. Had there been others?

_He glanced across the crowded dance-floor, forgetting everything else when he saw Mel. How could any human look so beautiful? He made his way across the floor to her and she stood there, looking a little surprised and a little uncertain as he stepped closer and then lightly pressed his lips to hers. It felt as though his body was on fire, experiencing sensations in places and ways that he had not even known he was capable of experiencing them._

_For a brief instant, expanded into an eternity for them, it was like they were the only two people in the room, the only two people in the entire universe. When they finally pulled away from each other, he kept one hand lightly on her throat and they stared at each other in awe for what seemed like another eternity._

Cole sighed deeply, brushing his fingers over his lips at the memory. Their first kiss. Amazing. Why had he waited so long? He simply savored the memory for several more minutes before examining it more closely. The location was unfamiliar, not one that he had any other memories of. Where had they been? And why? Another memory, seemingly related although he was not sure why or how, flooded his awareness.

_"Name, please?" the man behind the desk asked._

_"Cole..." he supplied._

_"Hauser..." Mel added, smiling. "Mister and Mrs. Cole Hauser. We're newlyweds." Still smiling, she put her arm around Cole._

They had been married. That seemed so wonderfully, perfectly right. _And_ he knew his name now. That meant that it would be very easy to find Mel now. Cole smiled widely, rising from his seat and hurrying into the house. Amelia was still on the phone.

"Hauser!" he announced breathlessly. "Cole Hauser. Mister and Mrs. Cole Hauser." He laughed and pulled her into a bear-hug.

"Okay. If you'll, um, put me down... I'll tell Jonathan..." Amelia found herself lifted several feet off the ground by the almost insanely cheerful man, her feet waving helplessly and her arms pinned against her chest. "Cole, put me down!" she ordered sternly.

"Oh, sorry." Smiling and shrugging, he gently returned her to the floor. He was smiling and so happy that he was almost hopping from foot to foot.

Shaking her head in amusement, she held the phone to her ear. Cole was acting exactly like a little boy on Christmas morning. "Still there, baby?"

"That sounded... interesting. 'Put me down'?" he repeated quizzically.

"John Doe has a name."

"You're kidding?"

"Not kidding." Amelia shook her head. Cole had wandered off again, no doubt to watch the Aurora Borealis some more. "His name is Cole Hauser."

"Cool... Tell you what, I'll drive to the Station tonight and get on this."

"Oh, would you?"

"Gladly. So... why exactly did you need him to put you down?" he teased.

Amelia laughed. "He was just a little excited."

"I should say so. I'll call you when I have anything."

"Thanks, baby. I love you." Amelia smiled and hung up the phone before going to find Cole.

***

"Oh, shit, you're kidding me?" Gwen was saying into the phone. "That is... beyond cool!"

Mel stared at her curiously as she entered the bar. No one had any right to be that excited at eight in the morning. What was Gwen doing here at that hour anyway? "Who are you talking to?"

She looked up, smiling widely. "Detective Parker. It's for you."

Mel nearly dropped her coffee. Only the look on Gwen's face kept her from expecting the worst. She took the phone cautiously. "Detective?"

"Good news, Miss Porter... We think we've found Mister Hauser."

"You think?" Mel repeated, frowning uncertainly. "What do you mean _think_? Is something wrong? Is he hurt? Is he..."

"Could you come down to the station?" Detective Parker's voice was cautiously neutral, but firm enough to indicate that she had no intention of talking about this over the phone.

That struck Mel as odd, and possibly foreboding. "Uh... Yeah. Just... let me get dressed, and I'll be... um, right down." She dropped the phone into its cradle, feeling scared and more than a little ill.

"I'll drive you..." Gwen offered. "You look kind of fried."

Mel smiled weakly and nodded. "Thanks, Gwen."

Mel quickly dressed and let Gwen drive her to the station. Together, they walked to Detective Parker's office. Gwen practically had to run to keep up with Mel. She found a bench and sat to wait while Mel walked inside. Vic was already there.

"Amnesia?" he asked, sounding dubious.

Parker nodded. "That is the... Miss Porter!"

Vic turned around quickly, looking guilty. "Mel! Hi..."

Mel looked from Vic to Detective Parker, her anxiety and trepidation increasing. "_What_?" she demanded of Vic.

Parker rose. "Miss Porter, we have, we think, found Mister Hauser."

"You _think_? What? Is he _hurt_?" Mel felt her throat tighten. Her head was swimming.

"Mel, sit." Vic held out a chair for her and waited for her to sit.

"He's _not_ hurt..." Parker began.

"Oh." Mel sighed, allowing herself to be somewhat relieved. She still did not like the way they were skirting the issue, though. "Then, what's the problem?"

Vic sighed. "Mel, he seems to have developed some kind of amnesia."

"Amnesia?" Mel repeated, shaking her head. It took her a few moments to absorb that information. "Wait, you mean..." she trailed off, her jaw dropping. She raised one hand to her mouth and the other to her chest, too stunned to react otherwise. It was a good thing that she had already been sitting, because she doubted that her legs would have supported her just then if she had not been. 

"Seems he only just remembered his name last night..." Parker explained gently.

"Amnesia?" Mel repeated, tears forming in her eyes. "Oh, my God... Where is he?"

"Alaska. Fairbanks. It's why they couldn't find him in Vancouver..." Vic told her.

"Is he _okay_ though?" Mel asked, looking from Vic to Detective Parker. 

Parker nodded. "He's not hurt as far as they can tell."

"They?" Mel asked, her voice taking on a slightly hysterical edge. God, if he was in a hospital...

Parker nodded. "A local woman is taking care of him. She happens to be engaged to a local cop who's been trying to find out where he belongs since Saturday."

Mel buried her face in her hands, not sure if she should be relieved or horrified. "But he's okay?" she finally asked, managing to keep her voice more or less steady.

Parker nodded again. "Yes. Vic, show her the picture. Just... as a formality."

Vic handed Mel a computer printout of a photograph. "The woman who's taking care of him, a Miss Munro, took this picture of him."

Mel nodded. "Yeah, that's Cole." Unless Troy Montana was unaccounted for as well. But the clothes were definitely Cole's, as was the quizzical expression he wore as he regarded the camera. "That's him. I... I need to get to Alaska..."

"Take it easy, Mel..." Vic told her.

"We're setting up a conference-call..." Detective Parker told her. "He's very eager to speak to you."

"I thought you said he had amnesia?"

"He does." Vic nodded. "You are one of the only things he _does_ remember." He patted Mel's shoulder lightly. "You call if you need anything." With that, he left the office.

Mel stared after him for a minute, then back to Detective Parker. "He remembers me? What else does he remember?"

"Not a lot, apparently. Miss Munro says that he remembers almost nothing."

"Oh, God..." Mel muttered. It was hard to say how much he may or may not have remembered about who and what he was, but, if he really did not remember these things, then she needed to get to him before he did anything to compromise himself. "I _really_ need to get to Alaska."

Parker nodded as her phone rang. "_That_ is probably Detective Stiles now." She picked the receiver up. "Missing Persons, Detective Parker. Ah, Detective Stiles. Yeah, I've got Mel right here. Mel _Hauser_?" She looked up at Mel for a moment, her expression curious. "No, Mel _Porter_..."

Mel frowned in confusion, shrugging in response to the Detective's curious look. Shrugging, Detective Parker activated the speaker-phone.

"Miss Porter?" a male voice asked.

"Yeah. How is he? Is he okay? Is he there?" Mel asked the questions rapid-fire, not really giving him time to answer until she paused for breath.

"Not yet. Amelia's still trying to explain the speaker-phone to him."

Mel rubbed her forehead, wondering what the hell had happened to Cole and if the man who she was getting back was even going to _be_ Cole. Without his memories, his personality might be totally different. Worse, it might be like starting from scratch with him all over again. She nodded gratefully as Detective Parker handed her a box of Kleenex.

"Okay..." Detective Stiles said. "We're ready on this end."

A female voice could be heard explaining gently, "No, you just talk _normally_."

"Like this?"

"Cole!" Mel gasped, instinctively leaning towards the phone.

"Mel? I've missed you so much..." Cole's voice was shaky.

"Are you okay?" Mel asked, wiping her eyes as she spoke.

"Yes, but I miss you. I want to come home." There was a slight pause. "Mel? Are you still there?"

Mel exhaled deeply. "Yeah, Cole. I'm right here. How are you?"

"I'm... I miss you, Mel."

"Oh, Cole... I miss you, too. I've been so worried about you."

"I know. You worry when I don't call. I'm sorry, Mel."

"Shh..." Mel said gently. "It's okay, Cole. Not your fault." She grabbed another tissue, pausing.

"Mel? Please... keep talking." Cole's voice sounded anxious.

Mel quickly composed herself. "I'm sorry, Cole. I'm still here. I... I am _so_ glad that you're okay. I... I really don't know what I'd do if..." Mel muffled a sob in her hands. 

"It's okay, Mel. Everything's going to be okay now." Cole sounded as if he might have been crying as well.

"I'm so glad you're okay, Cole. I... I..." Mel paused, not sure what else to say. "Oh, Cole..."

"Your voice is even more beautiful than I remembered."

That caught Mel by surprise. She stared at the speaker-phone with wide eyes. "God, Cole, your voice sounds pretty great to me, too..." she laughed through her tears. "Oh, I've missed you..."

"Can I come home, soon."

"Home." Mel sighed. Home, for Cole, would never be in Chicago. "What do you remember about home, Cole?"

"The Watchfire. You taught me to dance there... and... we live there, and I..." His voice broke and Mel could have sworn that she heard him groan softly.

"Are you okay, Cole?" Amelia and Mel asked at the same instant.

The reply was plaintive. "My head hurts. I'm sorry."

Mel sighed. "It's okay, Cole."

Amelia's voice could be heard. "She's right, it's okay... You're okay... Go get a drink of water and take a few minutes."

Mel let out a strangled sob. It was so wonderful just to hear his voice again. "Is he okay?" she asked the woman on the other end of the phone.

"He's been getting headaches and he's a little emotional, which isn't helping."

Cole was not the only one who was emotional. Mel barely managed to get the words out. "Thank you for taking care of him. I'll... I'll catch the next flight up there."

"Mrs. Hauser, I think we need to talk privately before you come up. I'm not sure you realize how much he's forgotten."

"It doesn't matter. I _need_ to see him. Anything else can be taken care of once I'm up there."

"Okay. Look, let me give you my phone-number and you can call when you have a flight. We'll pick you up at the airport and you can stay at my place until you get back to Chicago."

Mel quickly scribbled down the phone-number. "Thank you. Thank you so much..." It was becoming hard to control her tears enough to be able to talk coherently, so she said, "Tell Cole... tell him that I miss him very much and that I'll be up as soon as I possibly can."

"Okay. I'll tell him that. You know, he loves you very much."

Mel sobbed and nodded. "I know... I… Me too..." Shaking her head, she rose. "I'm sorry, I can't..." Sobbing, she fled the room.

Gwen, who had moved to a bench much closer to the office door, was on her feet in an instant. She slid her arms around Mel and guided her to the bench. "It's okay... " she whispered. "It's going to be okay..."

"He doesn't remember a thing..." Mel sobbed as Gwen gently rocked her.

"He remembers _you_."

Mel looked up, startled. "You were eavesdropping?"

Gwen shook her head. "No. I talked to Detective Bruno on his way out."

Mel sighed. "What am I going to do?" she whispered.

"Have faith."

"You and your damn faith..." Mel muttered, shaking her head.

"Hey... You _found_ each other. Nothing else matters right now. When he is back in a familiar setting, I am _sure_ that his memory will come back."

Mel looked up at her uncertainly. "That a professional opinion?"

"It is." She nodded. "A familiar setting _will_ jog his memory. Once the pieces start falling into place, it's only a matter of time..." Gwen assured her, hoping that she was right.

Mel sighed and nodded. "Okay."

"Okay, let's get you home. I'll make you another cup of that tea and you can get yourself together while I call the airport and get tickets for you. How's that sound?" She smiled reassuringly at Mel.

Mel sighed, _wanting_ to be reassured. "Sounds good."

"Okay, then." Gwen rose and helped Mel to her feet. "Let's go."


	5. Remembrances

**Chapter 5 -- Remembrances**

"Hey, how're you holding up?" Amelia asked gently.

_"Hey, how're you holding up?"_

_Confused, "I'm not holding anything up, Mel."_

"I... feel like I miss her even more now." Cole sighed. "I don't know. I'm still very confused, Amelia."

"I know you are." She nodded understandingly and walked into the kitchen. "You hungry?" she asked, picking up a knife and pulling a few carrots from the fridge.

He shrugged. "I guess." 

She looked over her shoulder as she chopped. "Mel's coming up on the next available flight."

Cole smiled. "That's good. How long?"

Amelia smiled. "She'll be here tomorrow afternoon. We're going to meet her at the airport." Her smile widened at the eager look on his face. "See, I told you we'd find her."

Cole smiled. "Yes, Amelia, you did."

"Hey, could you-- _Jesus_!" Amelia gasped as the knife she had been chopping with slipped in her grasp, neatly slicing off the tip of her right index finger. "_Christ_!" she added, grabbing her hand and looking around for a towel to staunch the flow of blood.

Cole stared, shocked and uncertain how to react.

"Get me a towel or something..." Amelia managed, although she was pretty rapidly growing light-headed. 

She must have nicked an artery or something, she decided, not sure if fingers even _had_ arteries. Either way, she had taken off easily a quarter of an inch of finger and the blood-loss was considerable. In spite of the pressure she was applying, the blood continued to flow freely from what was left of her finger. There was no way in hell she was going to make it to a hospital before she passed out.

Cole grabbed a towel and held it tightly against her hand, his eyes wide with anxiety. "Is it bad?" he asked uncertainly.

"I don't..." She hazarded a glance under the towel and wretched. She could actually _see_ the bone. Leaning against the counter, she nodded. "Bring me the phone..." she muttered, taking deep breaths. The towel was already soaked and starting to drip on her already blood-splattered clothes. Counter and floor were both covered in blood.

Cole turned to get the phone then turned back, frowning curiously, and almost thoughtfully, at her hand. There was something...

"Cole!" Amelia snapped, trying to get his attention.

_They were stuck in a traffic-jam. He would never be able to make it in time this way, but he might be able to if he walked, and he told Mel so. Then he saw her bandaged hand for the first time. She had hurt herself._

_"Give me your hand, Mel..." he said, extending his own. _

_Watching her in concern, he unwrapped the hand and held it between his palms. A pale golden glow seemed to emerge from between his hands, bathing their faces. The look of wonder on her face was breath-taking, the golden glow that bathed it seemed only to add to her natural beauty. He released her hand and she held it up, examining it in surprise. The cut was healed. There was not even a scar to indicate that she had been hurt. She looked at him lovingly and reached out to touch his face..._

"_Cole_!" Amelia repeated frantically.

He extended his hands. "Let me see."

She shook her head, startled by the request. The room was spinning, and she was having trouble staying upright. "Take my word that it's bad and get the God-damned phone!"

Cole shook his head and gently took her hand in his, unwrapping the blood-drenched towel and letting it fall to the floor. Clasping her hand firmly between both of his, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the previous memory, hoping that would be enough. He heard Amelia gasp and opened his eyes in time to see the glow between his hands fading. He released her hand and wiped his own bloody hands on his jeans, staring at her in confusion. What had he just done? And _how_?

Amelia flexed her hand cautiously. Amazingly, her finger was completely healed. Not so much as a scar indicated that she had ever hurt herself. "What the hell was that?" she breathed, staring at him in awe.

He shook his head in confusion and took a few backwards steps away from her. "I don't know."

"Cole. How did you do that?" she asked gently, staring at him with wide, wondering eyes. Cole, sweet, gentle Cole, could heal with a touch. It was amazing beyond words, some kind of miracle. 

Cole stared at the floor, intimidated by her close scrutiny. "I don't know." He frowned and rubbed his forehead, tears in his eyes. "I don't know..." he repeated, more than a little scared by his own actions. Whatever he had done, it was _not_ normal and he wanted no part of it.

"Who are you?" Amelia breathed, still staring at him. "_What_ are you?" 

What indeed. Some kind of angel in human form? Just a man who happened to have this extraordinary gift? Not a man at all? Whatever he was, her respect and regard for him only increased. She supposed she should have been a little scared, or at least unsettled, but she could not find it in herself to be anything but quietly amazed. Whatever he had done, however he had done it... it was a _good_ thing, nothing to be afraid of. She had felt that as surely as she had felt the soothing heat that had accompanied the healing touch.

Cole shook his head. "I don't know..." he whispered, shaking his head. He turned to leave, but Amelia stepped in front of him. "Please..." he murmured, shaking his head again.

Her mothering instinct over-rode her sense of awe and her desire to know more about what had occurred. He was scared now, and that needed to be addressed before she was going to get _any_ answers. "It's okay..." she whispered gently, lightly caressing his face. "You do _not_ have to be afraid."

Cole whimpered softly, shaking his head. His thoughts were confused and chaotic. Foremost among them was a truly disturbing one, a quiet certainty that there was something in what he had just done that had the potential to keep him and Mel apart. He could not state it any more clearly to himself, or even really understand why he should believe this. He only knew that he did believe it, and it made him feel empty inside.

Whatever he had done... there was some dark secret connected to it, something that _no one_ was supposed to know, something dangerous. He did not know _what_ that secret could have been, but he did know that it frightened him and made him worry about living his life without Mel. Whatever it was, it set him apart somehow, when all he wanted was to be normal and to have Mel.

Amelia patted his cheek gently and spoke soothingly. There were times when dealing with this man was exactly like dealing with her own son, _any_ child. As a result, she knew exactly how to behave and what to say to reassure him. 

"It's okay, Cole. No one's mad. No one is going to hurt you. You're okay. _Everything_ is okay..." she kept her voice low, reassuring, and certain. Like a child who placed unconditional trust in a parent, Cole would believe it if he believed that Amelia believed it.

He nodded slowly. "I'm scared..." he whispered. Although this was not exactly what he felt, it was the closest he could come to describing the heart-wrenching sense of _aloneness_ he felt when he thought of the secret and its ability to keep him and Mel apart. He looked at Amelia, his eyes begging her for an explanation, a justification of what had happened, for some reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

"I know you are." She took him by the arm and led him into the bedroom, sitting him on the edge of the bed. This was big, and, judging from his horrified reaction, possibly dangerous as well. Maybe it would just be better to bury it the same way she had the other secret. Just forget that it ever existed and carry on with life. "Would you feel better if we kept this our little secret?" she asked gently. And why not? After all, it was not the only secret they shared, even if he honestly seemed to have forgotten the other.

He nodded slowly. "Yes..." he whispered. No one else had to know, that was good.

She smiled maternally at him. "Thank you, Cole, for helping me."

"I don't know how I did..." 

"How did you know you _could_?" she asked, curiosity overwhelming.

He shrugged and shook his head, not really wanting to talk about it. "My head hurts again..." he muttered, rubbing it. "Really bad this time." In fact, it felt as though it might split in two.

Amelia sighed. "Okay, I'll tell you what. I've got some Vicodin around here somewhere. I'll give you one and you go right to sleep, okay? You'll feel lots better when you wake up. Okay?"

He nodded. "What's Vicodin?" he asked.

"It's a painkiller." She riffled through her drawers until she found the bottle, left over from a recent biopsy. She had three left of the ten they had given her. She handed one to Cole. "Take that, then lie down. It'll make you tired."

"I'm already tired..." he muttered, taking it. "I'm _always_ tired." That, frustratingly enough, was true, but now he felt even more tired than usual. All he wanted to do was to curl up in the dark and allow oblivion to overtake him.

"I know, Cole." Amelia smiled reassuringly, knowing exactly how to comfort him. "Listen to me. When you wake up, we're going to get into my car and we're going to take a drive. And when we're done with that drive, you will get to see Mel again. How does that sound?"

He smiled at her and pulled his shirt off. "It sounds very nice."

"You sleep tight, Cole." She smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "And if you need anything at all tonight, you come and you get me. Okay?"

He nodded. "Yes, Amelia." Smiling at the thought of seeing Mel again, he finished undressing and climbed into bed.

Amelia left the door half-opened and leaned against the wall, considering what to do about what had just happened. Staring down at her bloodstained shirt and pants, she no longer found it possible to deny exactly what she had seen in the clearing. Whoever or _what_ever Cole was, he was something very special indeed. Her first thought was to call Jonathan and tell him everything. Of course, he would believe none of it, and even if he did, what then? 

She recalled Cole's terror at the mere mention of the word 'doctor', and, perhaps, one too many sci-fi movies and government conspiracy shows. She could not help but wonder if he had been subjected to some brutal battery of medical experiments at some point, either causing his powers or studying them. To tell anyone about these abilities was to invite a repeat of such torture. She could not do that to him. 

She considered calling Mel, but dismissed that as well. This was _not_ something to be discussed over the phone, especially as she had no clue if Mel knew anything about the man's amazing ability. Better to discuss it with Mel face to face. Since Mel was staying at least one night, there _would_ be time. Yes, she decided, she would discuss it with Mel when she arrived. Just maybe Mel would be able to provide Amelia with some insight, or, at the very least, some confirmation.

Feeling as though she had fallen through the rabbit-hole on her walk Friday, Amelia returned to the kitchen to mop up the blood before it dried.

***

"What if I don't recognize her?" Cole muttered anxiously to Amelia. The thought was painful beyond words.

She slid an arm around his shoulders and patted him on the knee. "It's okay if you don't. She'll recognize you, no matter what."

He nodded slowly. "I just wish she was here..."

Amelia glanced up at the monitor with the flight announcements. "They're disembarking now." 

Sure enough, people began pouring out of the gate. Amelia searched the faces in the crowd, wondering which one belonged to the woman who inspired such strong feelings in this amazing man. She did not have to wait long. A woman in a red and orange sweater stepped off the ramp and immediately stopped, scanning the crowd. Amelia heard a strangled sob from Cole as he rose and started slowly towards her. Mel saw him, let out a sob of her own, and closed the distance between them at a run. To Amelia's surprise, instead of running into each other's arms, they stopped about two feet from each other.

"Mel?" Cole whispered, caressing her throat. He had remembered that she was very, very beautiful, but the reality was, indeed, beyond words. So much light and power and beauty resided within her, carefully hidden from the casual observer, but more than obvious to Cole.

"Oh, God, Cole!" Mel sobbed, resting her hand against his chest. He looked fairly ill, as Amelia had told her he did, and she was still not sure about the state of his memory, but those gorgeous brown eyes that regarded her so earnestly... that was definitely Cole, exactly as she remembered him. "I was so worried..."

"I've missed you so much..." he breathed, tears in his eyes.

Mel smiled at him through her own tears, shaking her head. "Oh... don't cry... It's going to be okay now."

He nodded. "Yes." With a laugh, Cole pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. "Mel..." he breathed, inhaling that lavender scent that was exactly as he remembered it. "Mel, Mel, Mel, Mel..." he repeated over and over like a mantra.

Dropping her overnight bag, Mel clung to him, laughing and crying, feeling like her heart might explode from joy. Every anxiety she had had about his amnesia was gone, replaced by joy that he was okay and he remembered her. "Cole..." she breathed. "I've missed you." She could have held on to him forever, but then she saw the woman who was lingering a few paces away from them, trying to look inconspicuous. "Is this Amelia, Cole?" she asked, pulling away and regarding the woman to whom she owed so much.

He nodded and took Mel's hand, leading her to Amelia and smiling. "And this is Jonathan..." he added, nodding to the Detective as he approached. 

Cole held on to Mel's hand as she exchanged greetings and introductions with the two and thanked them both profusely. He never wanted to let her go again. Smiling, Mel slid an arm around his waist and leaned into him as Amelia walked them to the car. Until she saw him that first time, she had been having trouble convincing herself that everything really _would_ be okay. Now she had trouble believing anything else.

"I'd offer to take the two of you out to lunch, but after that flight you probably aren't up to it anyway."

Mel shook her head. "No, not really. I just want to... get reacquainted." She smiled and nodded, once more feeling anxious, wondering how much Cole recalled. Would he still be the same gentle, wonderful man she cared so much about? He certainly _seemed_ to be, but so much remained to be seen.

"It's understandable." Amelia nodded and left the two long enough to say goodbye to Jonathan before rejoining them. "I'm afraid it's a bit of a long drive..." she told Mel as they climbed into the car. Mel and Cole climbed into the back seat together, holding hands like young lovers. "Sorry about that."

Mel grinned. "Hey, that's okay. If you didn't live that far away from the city, you would never have found Cole."

Amelia smiled and nodded. "True. I'd say we all lucked out there. He's one hell of a catch, Mel."

Mel blushed and bowed her head. "Yeah, well..." 

Catch? Well, she supposed she _had_ technically caught him. After having him dropped in her lap. It had been insanity on her part to take an almost-naked, incoherent stranger into her car on a deserted roadside, but at the time it had hardly seemed like she had any other choice. She could hardly have left him out there alone, in that state. 

So she had given him a change of clothing and a ride into town. And then a room for the night, _one_ night. And then a safe base of operations. And then her help. And then her friendship. And finally her love. Her smile became pained.

Amelia, mistaking it for embarrassed, smiled and deferred. "I'm sorry. I'll stop teasing now." 

She plugged a CD into the player and shifted the car into gear. Mel and Cole spent the drive in complete silence, staring at each other. After a while, Mel slid closer to Cole and leaned against him, sliding her arms around him. Cole smiled and slid his arms around her, resting his chin on top of her head and closing his eyes. Mel sighed happily and nestled closer. Things did, occasionally, have a habit of working out for the best. She suddenly found herself very, very hopeful. But then, Cole often had that effect on her.

Amelia occasionally glanced at them in the rearview mirror, curious. For all their obvious love for each other, they were not particularly physically demonstrative. Mel took almost an hour to get comfortable enough to move close to him. Before that, they just kind of stared at each other, lost in thought. Cole was wearing the most radiant smile Amelia had ever seen on anyone. Mel's look betrayed both relief _and_ worry, an odd combination, but one Amelia understood.

Still, there was something odd about the way they interacted. Cole was endearing but clumsy, for lack of a better word, with his affections, as though long out of practice. Mel, even when she was in his arms, maintained a level of reserve that did not really correspond to being a man's wife, or even, really, his lover. Still, their affection for each other was obvious and intense, an odd contrast to their behavior. Odd...

***

"That was wonderful..." Mel told Amelia as they cleared away the dishes.

"Hey, it's nice to have company to cook for a change." Amelia smiled. She glanced at Cole who was yawning. "Tired, Cole?"

He nodded. "But I want to stay up. I want Mel to see the lights in the sky."

Amelia smiled and nodded. "Okay. I'll finish up in here. You two kids go have fun." 

Amelia mentally chided herself for calling them 'kids' when Cole was obviously older than she was, and Mel not much younger. Still, they behaved very much like young lovers, and the term seemed strangely appropriate to them, maybe because of their seeming innocence. It reminded her very much, in a pleasant way, of her courtship with her deceased husband. They made a sweet, lovely couple, and Amelia hoped that they would have nothing but happiness together.

Cole took Mel's hand and led her from the house. "It's so beautiful, Mel. It reminded me of you..." he told her, eager and excited to share such beauty with the woman he loved.

Mel caught her breath as she took in the Aurora Borealis. She had only ever seen it on television before, and that completely failed to do it justice. The lights, in more intense, immediate color than she would have thought possible, flickered and pulsed rapidly in the sky. No work of art she had ever seen compared to the natural spectacle unfolding above her. It stirred up something deep within her being that she could not really explain, except to say that it was so breathtakingly, hauntingly beautiful that it brought tears to her eyes.

"It's so beautiful, Cole..." she whispered as they stood watching it.

"Yes, it is beautiful." He smoothed away a stray tear as it slid down her cheek, ignoring his own. He could not imagine having ever felt this happy before in his life. "Like you." He rested his hand over her heart. "Like this." He pulled her gently into his arms and lowered his head towards hers.

Mel felt her heart skip a beat at this. "Cole..." she whispered, shaking her head. He was about to kiss her. Why? Mrs. Hauser... Of course. He thought they were married and he wanted to act that way, less than a month after he had told her that they could never have a physical relationship. Just when she had thought that life could not get any more unfair...

He brushed two fingers over her lips, quieting her. "Just watch..." he breathed in her ear before dropping his head and kissing her throat.

Mel groaned softly, leaning into him with her body but pushing him away with her hands. Her head was spinning. She was torn between a desire to push him away and explain the relationship they had, the relationship that _he_ had insisted upon, and a desire to just take the gift of his love for as long as he remained willing to give it. The first was painful, the second dishonest. Mel shook her head, tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong, Mel?" Cole asked gently, drying her eyes and pulling her into his arms.

Mel accepted the hug gratefully. It was the kind of thing that friends did to comfort each other. She hung on to him and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Cole. It's just... I'm a real basket-case right now."

"Basket-case?" Cole repeated uncertainly.

"I'm more than a little confused and upset." She smiled reassuringly at him. "It's okay, Cole. We're going to be okay."

He smiled and nodded. "I know, Mel."

She felt his knees buckle slightly and reached up to support him. "Are you okay, Cole?" she asked gently, walking him to the porch-swing.

He nodded and sat down, smiling apologetically. "I've been a little weak."

"Aw, poor Cole." Mel sat down next to him, smiling reassuringly. "Don't worry. We'll get you home and have you back in shape in no time."

He smiled at her. "I'd like that. I like it here very much, but I want to go home." Home... with Mel. Just the two of them together. Nothing, nowhere, could be as beautiful as that. When he had first awoken in Amelia's bed, he had been confused as to where home was, perhaps a product of his blow to the head, for there could be no doubt anymore. Home was with this amazing woman, and it was _not_ cold and dreary because Mel brought warmth and light.

Mel nodded. "Yeah, me too."

"It'll be nice to have things like they were." Cole smiled at her.

Mel sighed and nodded. "Yeah."

He frowned slightly. "Cheer up, Mel." He smiled at her. "It'll be okay."

She nodded and gave a forced smile. "I know, Cole."

They sat together in silence for several minutes. Mel's mind raced, trying to figure out what she was going to tell Cole about their relationship, and _when_. Obviously he could not be allowed to continue to think that they were married, especially if he planned on going any farther than kissing her, assuming he even _knew_ how to go any farther than that... But how was she supposed to _tell_ him that they were not married? He had to have been remembering the recent seminar that they had attended undercover, but _why_ was his memory being so selective? It was almost as if he had deliberately screened out anything about the assassins they had been pursuing. 

Perhaps all he really _wanted_ to remember was them, together and happy. Mel, who had almost given up on any serious hope of there ever being anything between the two of them, found this thought obscurely reassuring. For all the restraint she displayed around Cole, she still loved him very deeply and wanted to be with him very much. The problem, of course, was his mission on earth. As long as that was there, they could never be.

She wondered how much he remembered about his mission. No mention of it yet from him. There was only one way to find out.

"So, how'd things go with Ansen?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"Who?" Cole asked, glancing quizzically at her.

"You were up here to see him. On _business_..." Mel prompted gently.

"Business?" Cole rubbed his forehead, the damned headache was back. He had not been troubled by it all day, perhaps because he had been too busy enjoying Mel's company to try to remember anything, but now it was worse than before. "Don't... I don't know, Mel." He shook his head.

"Do you remember what you do?" Mel asked softly, worried. Forgetting the name of a fugitive was one thing, but he seemed more than a little clueless as to what constituted 'business', and _that_ had her worried.

Cole considered the question for a minute, ignoring the rising tide of pain in his head until he had to close his eyes again. He shook his head. "Don't remember..." he said softly.

"Are you okay?" Mel asked, worried.

"Sometimes when I try to remember things my head hurts."

"So you really don't remember _anything_?" Mel asked, frowning. That was _not_ good. Where was she supposed to start? And how?

He opened his eyes and smiled lovingly at Mel. "I remember you."

"But nothing about your job?"

He shook his head. "No, Mel. Why?"

Mel sighed. He _had_ to remember. After London, it was clear that there was probably a _lot_ more at stake than 218 escaped criminals. "Do you think you could try to?" she asked gently. "For me?"

Cole nodded. If it was important to her, he would try to ignore the pain. He closed his eyes and took her hand. "Ansen?" he repeated the name.

Mel nodded. "Yeah."

Cole inhaled deeply. Ansen. He repeated the name in his mind, searching for some meaning or connection and ignoring the slowly building pain that developed as he did so. Ansen was... it was on the tip of his tongue, but he could not remember. The harder he tried, the worse the pain became, but he persisted. It was almost like ramming his head against a brick wall, but he felt that he was almost through, so he kept searching his mind, relentless.

Abruptly, the pain exploded, becoming more severe than anything that he had ever experienced. It was agonizing, blinding. Releasing Mel's hand with a cry, he doubled over, falling from the swing to the porch.

"Oh, my God, Cole!" Mel gasped, dropping to her knees next to him as he rocked on his knees, clutching his head and hissing in pain. "Cole, what's wrong?" she asked, wrapping her arms around him, not sure what else _to_ do.

"Hurts..." he groaned, leaning into her.

"Shh... It's going to be okay..." Mel muttered, feeling frantic. He was shaking like a leaf and obviously in a tremendous amount of pain.

Having heard his cry, Amelia was on the porch moments later, kneeling next to Mel and muttering soothingly to Cole. 

"Has this happened before?" Mel asked her, hugging Cole closer.

"Yes, but never this bad."

Cole drew a number of deep breaths, mastering the pain enough to speak weakly. "I think I'll feel better if I can get some sleep."

"_Sleep_, Cole?" Mel repeated. Sleep? He was _sleeping_ now? What had happened to him? Whatever had caused this amnesia had obviously caused other problems as well...

He nodded, not noticing the surprise in her tone. "I'm really tired, Mel. I probably should have gone to sleep earlier."

Mel shrugged and rose, helping him to his feet. If he needed sleep, he needed it. She could worry about _why_ later. With Amelia's help, she got him to the bedroom, undressing him while Amelia found another pain pill. The pill itself worried Mel, more because she was not sure what it would do to him than anything, but both Cole and Amelia acted as though they had gone through this before, so she pushed that concern aside in favor of a more general concern for him. As Amelia left, closing the door to afford them some privacy, Cole swallowed the pill and lay back on the pillow with a groan, reaching for Mel's hand. Mel took his hand and lightly caressed his forehead. Cole sighed quietly and rolled onto his side, resting his head and one hand on Mel's leg. 

"Mel..." he breathed, enjoying being this close to her.

"Don't worry, Cole. You're going to be just fine..." she whispered weakly. 

She was still more than a little shaken by what had just happened, too shaken to consider the implications yet. There was still too much that she simply did not know. She sat with him until he slept or passed out, she was not sure which. Sighing, she smoothed the hair out of his face and, after several minutes, gently returned his head to the pillow. Unaware that she was crying, she bent over and gently pressed her lips to his before rising and leaving the room.

Amelia was in the living-room, staring out a window into the darkness outside. "How is he?" she asked, pouring Mel a cup of coffee.

"Sleeping or something." Mel accepted the coffee with a grateful nod. "Thanks."

"Yeah. Sleeping 'or something'?" Amelia repeated, glancing at Mel. It was a strange thing to say. "I think we need to have a long talk about your friend." She had wanted to have a long talk about Cole before Mel had flown up. Now was as good a time as any.

Anxious, Mel nodded and sat down, wondering what, if anything, this woman knew about Cole's condition... or his identity. She stared at Amelia with what she hoped was a neutral expression. As vulnerable as he obviously was, it was entirely possible that Cole had given some very strong indications that he was more than he seemed to be. Alone with Amelia for so long, not knowing any better... anything could have occurred. 

"Sure..." Mel said, trying to sound casual. 

Amelia sat down opposite Mel. "Who is he, Mel?"

Noting Mel's startled expression, Amelia added gently, "_What_ is he?" 


	6. Cole

**Chapter 6 -- Cole**

Mel stared at Amelia in uncertain surprise for a few moments before responding. "What do you mean?"

"I think you probably already know that. If not..." Amelia sighed. "If not, then I've got an earful for you."

Mel sighed deeply, wondering what Cole had done that Amelia had seen. Something big, obviously, for her to amend 'who is he?' to '_what_ is he?' so readily. The good news was that Amelia seemed to be taking whatever she had seen well. She cared about Cole, and seemed reluctant to endanger him. She looked up at Amelia and saw the other woman watching her patiently.

"What did he do?" Mel asked softly.

Amelia considered for a moment before speaking. She had been ready to confront Mel with everything that she had seen, from the fight in the clearing on. Now, though, staring Mel in the eyes... The only evidence Amelia had for _any_ of her claims was more likely to incriminate her than anything. Would Mel believe Amelia if she accused Cole of murder? Amelia herself, having gotten to know the gentle man, had _seen_ it and could barely believe it.

Mel would have questions, not the least of which would be why Amelia had failed to report the death. Her decision to bury the body only implicated her further in the whole thing. At this point, there was more to connect Amelia herself to Ansen's death than there was to connect Cole to it. Besides which, Amelia still had no real idea what had occurred in that clearing. It would be better, for the time being, at least, not to share the whole truth with Mel.

"Last night I cut myself in the kitchen. Badly. Cole... healed me, somehow."

Mel stared at Amelia cautiously for a moment. It was not as bad as it could have been, definitely. Mel had long worried about Cole's habit of taking fugitive's life-forces out in the open, usually without even bothering to make sure no one was around first. Then there were the dead bodies that he left in his wake once he _had_ collected a life-force. Healing Amelia, though...

"He healed you?" she repeated slowly, trying to sound politely interested instead of relieved.

Amelia nodded. At least Mel did not seem completely dubious. "Yeah... Like..." She reached back into her Apostolic upbringing for the words. They came easily in spite of the fact that she had not so much as stepped foot inside of a church in better than years. "He healed me by laying on hands."

"Laying on hands?" Mel repeated. Oh, good. Amelia believed in faith healing. Absolutely too good to be true. Mel did not have to tell her _anything_ about Cole and his true mission. "He healed you with just a touch?"

Amelia nodded. "Which I realize must sound insane to you..." she began, shaking her head. What the hell was she doing, trying to convince this woman? She had _experienced_ it and was having trouble believing it less than 24 hours later. "But..."

Mel shook her head. "No. It doesn't sound insane." She lowered her voice, leaning closer to Amelia. "I've... seen him do that before..." she said in a confiding tone. "He once healed me when I had hurt myself."

Amelia exhaled deeply. If Mel had experienced it, too, it meant that she was not crazy. Good to know. Hell, that could even make Cole's ability and honest-to-God miracle. Amelia, who had given up on God at about the same time that she had given up on her fellow man was left wondering. She had no reason to _expect_ any sort of Divine intervention in her life, but maybe that was precisely what she had gotten.  Maybe it was some kind of sign, a message to her that there really _was_ a higher purpose to life. Maybe... maybe Cole had been dropped in Amelia's lap to give her back her hope. Or her faith.

Amelia exhaled deeply, feeling more than a little shaken, though in a good way. She felt... uplifted. "He has an amazing gift, Mel..." she said quietly.

"Amazing does not begin to describe him..." Mel told her honestly. 

"No, I guess it really doesn't." Amelia smiled faintly.

Mel smiled, noticing Amelia's mood. The woman seemed happy, almost serene. "Cole is... like no other man."

She smiled and nodded. "I'd noticed."

Mel grinned. "He... I help him out, you know."

Amelia nodded. "You... protect him?" she ventured. As intelligent as Cole seemed, he also seemed like the kind of man who might well need someone to watch over him. He was trusting to a fault, in many ways more like a child than a man.

"When I can." Mel nodded. It was true enough. "Cole's... not like other people." She shrugged, aware that she had said it before. Still, it was true, and it fit. "There are a lot of times when he needs help."

Amelia smiled at Mel. She must have been an amazing woman to have recognized Cole for what he was and choosing to shelter him. After a few moments, she asked, "Why's he scared of doctors?"

Mel looked startled. "I didn't know he was." 

"He is..." Amelia told her. "It's why I haven't had one in to see him."

"Oh." Mel nodded. 

"Is it because of his gift?" Amelia asked.

Mel decided that this was as good an explanation as any. After all, the two were, if her guess was right, related. "I think that it must be... See, he was... discovered and... pretty intensively studied at one point. He doesn't like to talk about it. I don't know what they did to him, but I know it must have been bad." Her smile had completely faded. "He wasn't even _angry_ with them. He just wanted to know _why_..." She wiped her eyes absently, shaking her head. She had felt so horrible, knowing that Cole must have suffered horribly and being unable to help him.

Amelia saw Mel's tears and patted her arm gently. That must have been what she meant when she had said that she protected Cole when she could. "That sounds about like the guy I know. Very gentle and... different. Childlike, even."

Mel nodded. "That's Cole." She sighed. "Does he... Has he done anything to indicate that he remembers _anything_?"

Amelia shook her head. "Nothing. He remembers you. That's it. You're his anchor. If he didn't remember you, I'm not sure what would have happened to his mind in the past week, but I doubt it would have been pretty."

"But he remembers that he can heal people..."

Amelia shook her head. "If he did, I don't think that he would have been as scared as he was when he healed me."

Mel covered her mouth with both hands, feeling helpless and alone.

"You aren't really married, are you?" Amelia guessed gently. The relationship Mel was describing seemed less about physical love and more about a deeper, more spiritual connection. From her words and behavior, Mel was not Cole's wife but his protector.

She shook her head. "No... We aren't even really _dating_."

Amelia noticed the sorrow in Mel's voice over _that_ revelation and hoped to cheer her, "He loves you, though."

Mel nodded weakly. "I love him, too. That's not an issue."

"Then what?"

"He's... different, special. He... the things that he's called to do... keep us apart."

"I'm sorry." Amelia squeezed Mel's arm gently. Of course, a Calling like Cole's _would_ make it difficult to form any sort of lasting relationship. Perhaps, like some men of God, he had even taken a vow preventing him from having a physical relationship with a woman. 

She nodded. "Um, we... after a lot of thought we decided that having a relationship would be... a bad idea. This was... um, less than three weeks ago."

"You poor baby." Amelia sighed. "I had assumed that you'd be sleeping in with him, but you take the upstairs guest-room and I'll grab the couch."

Mel shook her head. "No. I want to be near him. There can't be anything between us, but... I want to be near him..."

Amelia nodded. "I understand. You look about ready to turn in. Will you be bringing him home tomorrow?" she asked gently. As much as she would miss having Cole around, it probably was better to get him home sooner rather than later.

Mel nodded. "I think the sooner the better. I want him back in familiar surroundings. Maybe he'll be able to remember better once he's home."

Amelia sighed and nodded. Something occurred to her which had not before. Having thought of it, though, she decided that it would probably be wise to mention it to Mel. "You should be aware that these migraines of his seem to be connected to his attempts to remember things. Um... I'm not sure how or why, but that's the sense I'm getting. And... he says that it hurts worse when he tries to remember things."

Mel nodded. "That's what happened tonight."

She nodded. "I called a doctor friend of mine. He wrote out a prescription for Cole. We can pick them up before you go to the airport tomorrow if you want. Um, painkillers. The headaches seem to be getting worse instead of better... It might be wise to have them around."

Mel nodded. "How much is he sleeping?"

"About fourteen hours a day. More when his head is bothering him."

Mel sighed and nodded. From never sleeping at all to sleeping more than half of every day? "That's a lot, especially for Cole..."

"He's still weak. Whatever's wrong with him..."

Mel nodded. "Thank you so much for taking care of him."

She nodded. "It was the right thing. I couldn't leave him in the state he was in."

Mel smiled and nodded. "He... has that effect on people. You see him and you just..."

"Want to take care of him." Amelia nodded. "I'd noticed." She smiled gently at Mel. "You look exhausted, Mel. Get some sleep, okay?"

Mel nodded and rose, grateful for the reprieve. "Thanks. Good night."

Amelia smiled and nodded. "Good night, Mel. Try to take it easy."

"Yeah." 

Mel nodded and entered the dark bedroom, closing the door behind her and hoping that Cole would sleep through the night. As much as she wanted to be near him, the idea of being in here alone with him awake, when he believed they were married, was a little intimidating. It was not that she felt that Cole would do anything she told him not to, she just did not want to have to deal with explaining to him _why_ they could not do anything. She still had no idea what she was going to say to him. Stronger than that worry, although she would not admit it even to herself, was the concern that she might not be inclined to resist if Cole _did_ try something in the night.

She could think about what to say to him on the plane, she supposed with a sigh, changing into the heavy, conservative pajamas that she had packed in anticipation of the colder weather up here. She was grateful that she had not selected a lighter or more revealing pair. She realized with a start that these were the pajamas she had worn in London the night that Cole had caught her talking in her sleep. She ran her hands reflectively over the red fabric. 

_"Who's Bob?"_

_"Bob?"_

_Cole nodded. "Bob. Bobby."_

_The embarrassed realization that she had been talking in her sleep was only intensified as she recalled exactly what it was she had been dreaming about. Dreading the answer, she asked Cole what she had said in her sleep. And received a brutally honest answer, complete with appropriate pitch and intonation. Also some teasing from him that day._

When had Cole developed a sense of humor? She smiled as she climbed under the covers next to him. He had definitely changed from the ungainly, incoherent, seemingly half-mad stranger that she had picked up all those months ago. Admittedly, he had changed from _that_ rather quickly, picking up skills and language with almost frightening speed. Still, the man he was today was altogether different from the man he had been in those first weeks, even after he had learned all those skills, and _that_ change had been so gradual that Mel, exposed to him every day as she had been, had not even noticed it at first. 

Until one day she had gotten out of bed in the morning, greeted Cole, and realized that something had changed, not only in him, but in Mel herself, in both of them. The way they acted towards each other, the way they _felt _about each other had, at some point, completely changed without either of them realizing it. The added familiarity seemed only to intensify an already-strong emotional attachment. 

And, that was, Mel reflected, brushing his hair out of his face and watching him sleep, what made life so very difficult for the two of them now. They cared about each other, they knew it, they liked the way it felt, yet they could never act on it without risking each other. _Not as long as Cole remained a Tracker._ Mel was startled when the thought pushed its way into her awareness. What evil, selfish corner of her mind had _that_ come from? She dismissed it as quickly as it had occurred. Cole _was_ a Tracker. Always would be for as long as he remained on Earth. And when his mission was done... then he would leave her. Leave _Earth_, she corrected herself firmly.

Without thinking, Mel curled up against Cole on her side, her body flush with his, her head and a hand resting on his chest. Her eyes widened slightly as she realized what she had done more by habit than anything. After all, when you were in bed with a guy, you curled up together. It was the _rule_. Except when the guy in question happened to be Cole and Cole happened to think that you were married. She started to move away, but Cole shifted in his sleep, wrapping one arm around her and firmly holding her against him. Mel realized with a sigh that she was _not_ going to be able to move without waking him up.

_Might as well enjoy it_, she reasoned, shrugging and snuggling against him. He was better than an electric blanket and there was, undeniably, something very comfortable, and comfort_ing_, about sleeping in his arms. When she had entered the bedroom, Mel had not been sure if she would be able to sleep. In Cole's warm embrace, sleep came quickly. Mel, who had long talked in her sleep, murmured Cole's name more than once before morning. Next to her, Cole did not stir once, and although he did not dream himself, he smiled in his sleep every time Mel gave voice to her dreams of him.

***

When he opened his eyes, Mel was just pulling on her shirt. He smiled up at her, running his hand over the still-warm sheets next to him. "Good morning, Mel."

She turned around, smiling at him. Her sleep had been _very_ refreshing. "Hey, Cole. How'd you sleep?"

He smiled at the woman, still flush from sleep, her hair disheveled. She was even more beautiful than she had been the night before. "Deeply." He smiled at her and sat up. "My head feels better."

Mel nodded and sat down on the bed next to him, absently brushing his hair out of his face. "I'm glad."

Cole smiled up at her and caressed her throat. "I slept better last night than I have in a long time."

"Must have been that pill..." Mel muttered, smiling. She was glad he felt better, and grateful that the level of physical intimacy they had shared before the seminar had been restored. It had always been very comfortable for both of them, but since deciding that they could not have a relationship, they had both shied away from unnecessary physical contact. It had been visibly painful to both.

"Must have been _you_..." Cole replied, smiling at her. He moved his hand from her throat to her cheek. "I will _never_ stay up working all night again, Mel."

Mel glanced at him with wide eyes, startled. "Don't say that, Cole..." she muttered quickly, thinking. He remembered that he often stayed up all night, but not that he did  not need sleep? Again, shying away from anything related to the fact that he was not human?

Cole shook his head. There was something abnormal about staying up all night when a creature like Mel was waiting in bed. Not to mention how good it felt to hold her, and how wonderful he felt waking up near her. "I mean it, Mel. It's a bad habit of mine, and it's not fair to either of us." He smiled and brushed his fingers over her lips. "Especially me."

Mel felt a little bit like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. "We'll, um, talk about it later, Cole..." she temporized.

"You don't believe me, do you?" he asked, smiling. Obviously he had spent one too many late nights working for her to believe him. He would show her, though.

His grin was infectious, and Mel found herself smiling back against her will. "I didn't say that, Cole."

He sat up the rest of the way and climbed out of bed, pulling her gently to her feet and into his arms. He glanced down at the heavy and concealing pajamas she had discarded and at his own briefs and shook his head. "We wear too much to bed, Mel. We should change that."

Mel began giggling, unsure how else to respond. She hoped that she was not going to spend the next several weeks trying to get him to keep his clothes on as she had been forced to spend the _first_ few weeks doing. The thought only made her giggle harder, and blush as well.

She was embarrassed! Unbelievable... "You don't have to be shy around me, Mel..." Cole told her gently, charmed by the reaction. 

_"You don't have to be embarrassed, Mel. I'm sure you must have a very beautiful body."_

He stared at her curiously. Had she always been shy about her body? He could hardly imagine why. She was beautiful, breath-taking. Her body _had_ to be equally amazing. Besides, he hardly would have cared if it had not been. It was the spirit inside that interested him. He held her against his chest, supporting her, until the giggles passed, then he gently lowered her onto the bed, sitting next to her and turning to face her. He reached up and lightly caressed her throat.

"Don't be embarrassed Mel..." he whispered, allowing his fingers to slide downwards, tracing the hollow of her throat. "You have a beautiful body."

Mel recoiled, startled. Cole had no way of knowing anything of the sort. Was he making memories up now? "You remember?" she asked, frowning.

"No..." he admitted, shrugging. "Even if you didn't, it wouldn't matter to me, but I'm _sure_ that it must be true." He rose, pulling her with him and moving her in front of a mirror. He stood behind her and nodded towards it. "Look at yourself, Mel..." he whispered, running his hands over the silky fabric of her blouse, smoothing it against her skin. "You're beautiful..."

Mel closed her eyes, shivering. She allowed herself to enjoy his touch for no more than five seconds before pulling away, but she felt guilty for allowing it to go on for _that_ long, knowing that her body would remember his warm, gentle caresses all day. 

"Cole, don't..." she muttered, shaking her head and moving away from him. She picked up her discarded pajamas and began folding then.

"What's wrong, Mel?" he asked in confusion. She seemed upset over something, though he could not imagine what. Still embarrassed, perhaps?

"We... have to leave soon." Mel shrugged and picked up his pants from the dresser. She pulled the Collector and another unfamiliar, but undeniably alien, item out of his pocket and handed him the pants.  Must have been one of his new tools. He was always cobbling new hardware together. "Get dressed, okay?"

He shrugged and began pulling his pants on. There would be time enough to convince Mel of her beauty later. He nodded towards the objects in her hand. "Do you know what they are? Are they yours?"

She shook her head. "They're yours. Remember?"

He shook his head and picked up his shirt. "No."

Mel sighed and tucked them into her own pocket. Not here, not now. They would talk about it at home. Home... the word hurt, left her feeling very lonely. Cole, as much as he had become a part of her life, was, after all, only a visitor in her world. "Cole, what do you remember about home?"

He paused and stared at her. Holding the shirt in his hands, he walked over to her. "We live together over the Watchfire. You taught me to dance downstairs."

"I meant your... _other_ home..." she clarified, wondering why she was pushing the issue. If he wanted to believe that home was with her, why should she do _anything_ to convince him that it was anywhere else?

"Home is where you are..." he informed her, kissing her forehead. He smiled and shook his head, amused at the thought of living anywhere else. He pulled on his shirt. "Are you okay, Mel?" he asked. She looked faintly worried over something. Had, in fact, since she had arrived.

She nodded. "Just... tired. Long week."

He nodded and smiled reassuringly. "I understand. But that's all over now. Everything is going to be fine for us." 

"Yeah, Cole..." Mel nodded, wishing very badly that could be true.

She picked up her bag and they walked to the living-room together. Amelia was waiting, along with a large breakfast, which they passed in cheerful, if inconsequential, conversation. Amelia stole more than one glance at Cole as they ate, but found that the things that she now knew about him changed nothing of what she felt for him. Human or not, he was a good, sweet, gentle man. She only hoped that the two of them could somehow find happiness together, in spite of the obstacles they faced.

They stopped at the pharmacy on their way to the airport, just in case. After many hugs and goodbyes between Cole and Amelia, and an injunction from Amelia to Mel to stay in touch and to call if she needed anything, even just to talk, Cole and Mel boarded their flight.

Cole seemed restless at first, quizzing Mel incessantly about life in Chicago, but he quickly dropped that line of questioning and closed his eyes, resting his head against the seat.

"Headache?" Mel asked gently. 

He nodded, sighing with frustration. "Yes, Mel."

"Why don't you try to get some sleep, okay?" she suggested gently. "We'll talk more when we get home."

He nodded. "Yes, Mel."

Mel got a pillow and blanket from the flight-attendant and tucked the pillow behind Cole's head. "Comfy?" she asked as she covered him the blanket.

He nodded and smiled at her. "Mel, when will the rest of my memories come back?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know, Cole. We'll work on it, I promise. Don't worry. I'm sure you'll remember everything in no time."

He sighed and closed his eyes, catching her hand in his. "I hope so, Mel."

"So do I..." she whispered after he had drifted off to sleep. 

The End of Part 1 

**If you're still with me, enjoy Part 2! -- unfortunately, ff.net is having some problems that are making it hard for me to get up/keep up Part 2, but if you can't get to it using ff.net you should be able to access it at the below URL. If not, e me and I can send you a copy or something:**

**http://www.dame-mehri.com/damemehri/ColeFiction/Tabula%20Rosa%20Part%20II.html**


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